


god knows i tried

by slowlange



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Curiosity, Daddy Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, First Love, First Time, Gentle Sex, Gon is 17, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Minor Kite/Ging, Oral Sex, Rare Pairings, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Underage Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowlange/pseuds/slowlange
Summary: No matter how much Kite wanted Gon to leave, no matter how much he desired to knock him unconscious and send him on a bus back to the nearest airport with a simple brandish of his Hunter license and the promise of his consciousness, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t. Because no one could force Gon Freecss to do anything. And Kite didn’t have the will to be the first.Kite takes on a job in the middle of nowhere to clear his head. Gon tracks him down with a request that nearly kills him.
Relationships: Ging Freecs/Kaito | Kite, Gon Freecs/Kaito | Kite
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48
Collections: Sin x Bin





	1. i look for answers, you look for a way out

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! so this whole thing started because someone said 'gon fucks kite because of his daddy issues with ging' and my brain said "wait that's actually a good idea" LOL.
> 
> per the dead dove warning, please bear in mind this includes a minor x adult ship/relationship. gon is 17 and kite is 37 in this fic, for those who would like to know beforehand. killua and ging are also aged at 17 and 37. the tags also outline mostly future events, but i want everyone to know what we're getting into.
> 
> this fic has been something really thought-provoking and fun for me to write. i hope you guys enjoy it too. 
> 
> **current fic status: 1 beta read through**
> 
> anyway, that's that. i hope you enjoy :)

Kite can usually tell when he’s being followed.

He has a good sense of his space, of who enters it and who leaves. It’s funny because he hadn’t run into any snags on the way into the town where his current task resided. It was a smooth trip, from beginning to end. Didn’t get lost (though, when did he), no one stepped in his way, and, most importantly, no one  _ followed  _ him. Or, so he thought. 

There’s a change in the atmosphere he can normally sense when a presence creeps close behind him. Perhaps it’s the unfamiliar, thin, yet warm air that floated about the town—Sealda was the name; a beautiful, suitable one— that threw him off of his usual game. Kite had placed himself in a considerably vulnerable position, all things considered. He was close to his temporary place of residence, out in the open on a rooftop with only a thin layer of zetsu flowing. And yes, it is possible, though barely, that one of these reasons is the culprit behind this. Or, his former protégée has just become that good in such a short period of time.

Though, he doesn’t quite make sense of how Gon is able to find him to begin with. He  _ is _ skilled, without a doubt, but finding Kite without a lead, or a leg up at the start, is something very few are able to do. 

It had been a few years since he’d seen Gon last. Back then, he didn’t exist the short little bundle of blazing tenacity alone. Last time, he was a woeful half of a package deal.

But here and now, he stands alone, every one of his nerves prickly, unshielded. 

“Gon.” Kite greets him though he lurks in the looming shadow of the restaurant's small rooftop covering. He doesn’t turn to face him and instead lets him hover to read him through less conventional means. 

“Kite.” He doesn’t emerge. Kite is tempted to ask how he managed to find him here, of all places, but he waits.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks instead, twirling the metal fork in his half-eaten plate of linguini.

“What are you eating?”

The dismissing of his inquiry is so blunt, so obvious that Kite is almost stunned by it. By ‘it’, he means the lack of subtlety. Gon slinks past him now, slow with each movement as he seats himself across from him. The seat creaks loudly, but neither of them is phased, focus evident where intent still lacks.

Kite blinks at him, gaze flickering to distinct changes in his form. He was bad at keeping track of time these days. There was once a time when he was better, but he can only guess that it’s been about five years since the last time they crossed paths. He must be what, sixteen? Perhaps, even seventeen. The resemblance to Ging is more uncanny than it was before. He’d adopted his more scruffy, unkempt look, a light shadow of facial hair lining his pointed chin. It’s a premature version of the one that presently existed. Much like when they were teens.

It rattled something dark within him.

“That’s not important,” He chooses to respond and move forward with the conversation he intends to have, rather than the path his mind would much rather explore, “you’ve managed to track me down.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

Kite muses at this.

“I would believe you if you arrived a few hours ago. Maybe before I got my food.”

Gon’s stern gaze cowers and he leans back into the metallic frame of the chair. Kite tries to discern Gon’s intention from anything he’s given at this point; posture, facial expressions, even his aura is unreadable,  _ unrecognizable  _ for what he’s used to seeing and feeling when he’s with Gon.

“Where’s Killua?”

Gon rolls his eyes. 

“Somewhere.”

“Not here?”

“No,” his arms cross his chest, “We’re doing different stuff for a while.”

“Well then you’ve left me even more confused than before,” Kite crosses his foot over his thigh, folding his hands and placing them in his lap. “What brings you here?”

“You never told me what kind of food they have here.” He counters clumsily yet again. Kite wonders if he will be able to get anything out of him. He wouldn’t have entertained this kind of avoidance in the past, opting to ignore instead of giving it attention. This kind of conflict was proven to be distracting during their very fragile training stage. But, admittedly, this wasn’t training anymore, and this kind of emotional outburst isn’t something that Kite is used to.

If he’s not talking, then there’s nothing he can do. Not that he  _ wouldn’t  _ do anything, but he knows it isn’t a good idea to get into it, obviously. Because he’s on a mission.

That’s it.

“Gon. I’m not here for play. If you need something, this isn’t the place to find it.”

“You don’t even know what I want yet.”

“I assure you, you won’t find it here. I won’t be able to give it to you.”

Now  _ leave _ . Kite had much he wanted to mull over on this getaway. He loves Gon, of course, he’s  _ family _ , but now isn’t the time for him to be around. Not during such a fragile hour. 

Gon reaches for the menu perched between them instead of disappearing off the roof and Kite watches with misery. He opens it, his fingertips gripping a bit too aggressively for that of a flimsy piece of paper. Kite wonders if he’s even hungry. Maybe he’s just putting up a tough front, or perhaps stalling. 

“I won’t entertain you,” He twists a mouthful of pasta onto his fork, “I can’t.” He  _ really  _ can’t. “I have no time.”

“How long are you here?”

“I’ll tell you that when you tell me why you’re here.”

This seems to capture his attention, though it’s not like Gon to be baited by petty tit for tat, Kite notes. Then again, things could have very well changed over time and through circumstance. The reasoning, whatever it may be, must be paramount.

“I ran away from home. It’s not a big deal.”

“Then why did you classify it under ‘running away’?” Kite flows into an interrogation with ease, “What are you running from, Gon?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kite sits back, “I’m only here for the summer. About four months. It’s one of the long term expeditions I used to tell you and Killua about.”

His face tightens at the second mention of Killua. Kite can’t imagine what has happened between them. The possibilities are endless, considering that Gon and Killua rarely fight about  _ anything _ .

_ He can’t, though. Whatever it is is their business and none of his own. He has no stake in this. _

“Whatever you think I can offer you, in terms of whatever turmoil you’re enduring, I’m not in the place to.” He explains, as kindly as he possibly can though his body is rigid. “I’m in no position to do so. Coming here was an empty venture.”

There. He’s made it clear. Now was his time to make an exit. But as he prepares, Gon reaches out, wraps his nimble fingers around his wrist.

“Wait.” He utters it, and a thick silence follows before he finishes. “I need you. I really do.”

“For  _ what,  _ Gon—”

“I want you to sleep with me, Kite.”

Kite stands abruptly, heart plummeting downward in the opposing direction. He yanks his hand away from Gon’s insistent grip. 

_ No. _

“Absolutely not.”

Gon is too much like his father. His conviction is unmoving. Whatever he has to say next, Kite doesn’t want to hear it. He  _ can’t  _ hear it. 

“I knew you wouldn’t say yes at first. I’ll stay until you do.”

_ No. _

“You will  _ not _ .” Kite’s voice rises in not just anger, but pure, ungoverned fear that Gon will stick to his word, as he always does, and push him to his oh so very feeble limits. “You will go  _ home _ . To your aunt, to your  _ friends _ . What you’re asking of me is beyond inappropriate, Gon. This is unacceptable behavior from--”

“From what?” Gon challenges him, standing as well. “I’m not your student anymore. If that’s the problem then you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You’re a  _ teenager _ .” Though Kite is telling himself that more than he’s telling Gon at the end of the day. 

“I’m seventeen, Kite. I’m not a child anymore.  _ Look _ ,” Gon motions to his body, hands skittering from his torso to his waist with dramatic flair, “adult body.”

“ _ Teenage  _ body.” Kite doesn’t look, no matter how much his eyes beg to gaze upon him. Because yes, his body isn’t that of a child anymore. He’s lean, yet managed to fill what was once too skinny for a boy with his kind of physical power. It was all too familiar. “You need to leave. I will not follow through with this.”

He turns his back on him with no intention of looking, for it’s in his best interest not to entertain such a dangerous, tantalizing game. 

“I’m not leaving!” Gon shouts it like he wants the whole town to know. Kite stops in front of the door. One step, and he’s free. The strain in his chest and the exhaustion of practicing restraint can dissipate. All that was required is the final nail in the coffin.

“Then you won’t see me,” he snaps, the door closing swiftly behind him and sealing with an affirmative force. It hits him like a wave when he doesn’t hear the pitter-patter of stubborn footsteps following behind.

He’s glad he didn’t see the expression on Gon’s face. For it may have sent him right into his embrace and into a bed he’d never be freed from.

Kite was a weak man.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He shuts the door to his quaint hotel room. Compared to where he previously was, returning here almost had the same air to it as when he would arrive home from a long mission. But no. Instead he was returning from a high stress, high emotion,  _ highly  _ unexpected evening.

Seeing Gon blurred much of what he was slowly beginning to chip at, and he couldn’t help but feel angry at the feeling of being set backward after so much progress. Gon…it was like looking into a mirror dusted with flecks of nostalgia and images of beautiful, irreplaceable memories. He saw Ging in his eyes, but it wasn’t the same, as much as it brought him back to his younger days. 

He doesn’t want to call him a pale imitation. Gon is his own person, undoubtedly. He’s like Ging in so many ways, but there’s a unique twist that gets his blood pumping sometimes. At night, mostly. When he’s alone and there are no eyes boring into his soul and picking at his innermost thoughts, wondering just why he would drift off with the image of Ging Freecss son in the forefront. 

Kite didn’t really understand it either. Somewhere between his youth and now, he’d let an unhealthy attachment between him and his first—unrequited—love fester into something beyond his mental resolve; a curiosity of the unknown. The untouchable. 

His son. Ging’s son.

There isn’t a specific date and time that he can record in relation to where the fascination had started. It was never like that. It had been living in him, deep down. It hadn’t translated into attraction before, no, but the idea that Ging had a child was  _ strange  _ to him in the beginning. A piece of the man he held so close to his heart, suddenly alive and breathing. And he would grow into someone that had the potential to be just like him. He was curious to see what he would become, excited for the years to come, and, selfishly, hoped it meant Ging would stick around for once.

He was wrong. Clearly.

But he was still able to play his part, guide Gon best he could. And he was glad, blessed even, to have played it. But it was different now.

Ging. He hasn’t seen Ging in years. Not since Gon was twelve, he thinks. It had been brief, though Ging always knew how to make it count. Much like his offspring, he had a way of sending Kite right back where he started when he felt like he was making his way out of his shackles.

And Gon. God,  _ Gon.  _ The first night he found himself wondering what he looked like as a young adult, he was disgusted with himself. But he poked at the beast, figured it wasn’t harmful if he kept it inside. 

It was unpleasant to discover that his imagination was practically spot on. He and seventeen-year-old Ging could perhaps switch places a few times and Kite wouldn’t blink twice. It’s horrifying and leaves him in a very, very bad position. And now that Gon has offered himself, stubbornly and on a silver platter while handing Kite the knife and fork all in one fell swoop?

He was almost tempted to…

_ No. Absolutely not.  _ Kite shakes his head before sitting on the mattress. He’s not foolish. He doesn’t have the mental fortitude of a child (though sometimes, he found himself peeling back his defenses at the sight of Gon. He’d have to put a stop to that). Any relationship with a teenager that isn’t a friendly or professional one isn’t one he should be having. This isn’t  _ hard _ to understand. Kite  _ knows  _ this. From a moral  _ and  _ a legal standpoint.

But, a sick, twisted, perverted voice in his mind makes it much, much harder for him to accept.

A sigh rushes out from his chest. Perhaps he’s panicking for no reason. He could have very well succeeded in sending Gon home with his tail between his legs. There could potentially be nothing to worry about. Besides, he really does need to focus on his mission. The Sealda Ruins wouldn’t be able to protect themselves, and Kite needed to be well-rested and of a clear mind if he was going to this right.

And he had to. Everything he did had to be right.

But first, he needed a shower.

Discomfort creeps into his stomach, down to his groin. He looks down, horror painted on his face.

It would have to be a cold shower.


	2. you must be haunting me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted this a little early because of how short i planned for this to be! i didn't notice until afterward, ahah. hope u enjoy! also, hi and thanks to anyone that is reading. i know we starting small but we're getting somewhere at some point i swear LOL

The next morning sunlight enters his bedroom with every intention of disturbing his slumber, but Kite is already awake. Though it was redundant to say that, considering he hadn’t slept much, to begin with. He wished he dreamed, at least. Instead, he fell in and out of it, never finding the REM he needed before such an important mission.

There’s nothing much to do about it, he supposes. The city bustled underneath his hotel room, people from all walks of life coming out of their homes and starting the beginning of what Kite would imagine being a long, hot summer day. He braces himself against the window that spans the length of the wall, toying with his hat, weightless in his hands.

Gon still plagued him in every way. He wondered if he left like Kite wished, though there was a voice deep in his gut telling him there was no universe in which Gon would leave him alone willingly. That baseless hope from last night had flowed right out of him.

He ran through the schedule of his day; he had to trek out to the ruins, scope out the remnants of the abandoned temples, and figure out just what happened there before he searched for anything worth value that would require his protection. Determining the worth of the place he’s meant to observe before committing himself is the most important part. He came here based on a boatload of talk and rumors, but he wanted to be ahead of the curve just in case anyone decided to make a move.

Afterward, it’s a matter of keeping watch over the summer as he worked on a means of sealing it off to the rest of mankind; from every day to the most elite of Hunters. A long, dedicated mission, but it’s safer this way;  _ better  _ this way. If his hunch was correct, this is something that needs to be done. Plus, he was getting too wrapped up in his head. He needed something new to do; something far from all his troubles.

It would take him less than a day to search thoroughly, he considers as he picks through his belongings and isolates what he needs. Identification would take a third of that time. He could finish and return to town for a decent dinner by evening if he’s able to keep his head in the game.

The woman at the check-in desk waves at him before he leaves and Kite returns it kindly. The people here, they made him feel light.

It was when he strides out the door, bathed in brilliant sunlight, that he’s startled by the threatening sight of unruly dark hair, that his lightness turns heavy.

“Gon.” Kite exhales. The voice in his gut was always right.

“Kite.” He graces him with a curt nod before sitting beside him on the rusty metal bench, hot to the touch. “So, where are you going?”

“Nowhere that you need to know about.”

“I know you’re on a mission.”

Kite’s fingers freeze. “How?”

“I didn’t. But now I do.”

Damn. Childish, but efficient.

“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you come with me. Especially after you’ve exposed the true intention of your trip up here. I refuse to encourage your behavior.”

“You’re encouraging it whether you ignore me or indulge me,” Gon says with an aberrant, manipulative twist in his voice, “so who really wins, at the end of the day?”

“I didn’t know this was a matter of winning or losing.”

“As long as I’m here, I win. You can’t force me out.”

Kite bites back a sigh. He refuses to give into these games, whether it be a sigh, or something worse.

“Come  _ on _ , Kite. I can even  _ help _ \--” 

“Gon I asked you to  _ leave _ .”

“Then force me out.” His face hardens, “Force me to fucking leave.”

And no, Kite couldn’t do such a thing. No matter how much he wanted Gon to leave, no matter how much he desired to knock him unconscious and send him on a bus back to the nearest airport with a simple brandish of his Hunter license and the promise of his consciousness, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t. Because no one could force Gon Freecss to do anything. And Kite didn’t have the will to be the first. 

“Force me, Kite! Force me to leave!”

Kite stood, and Gon followed, anxious of his next steps. But he would no longer sow the seeds of an inevitable outcome. 

They headed for the ruins together. Gon didn’t hang behind him as they traveled, either. They maintained the same pace, held the same stamina. They were equals. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“So what is your plan for this place?”

Gon kicks a loose stone rather carelessly in the direction opposite of them and Kite kisses his teeth.

“Don’t be so careless.” He scolds, “You’ve decided to come, so play by my rules.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gon huffs and crosses his arms, “But for real; what are you doing here?”

“We’re here to preserve these temple ruins.” Kite eyes the scene before him with pride, as he does all his work.

“Like Dad?”

His heart twinges.

“Yes. Like Ging.”

“So what do we do first?” Gon looks alongside him, eyes glazing over the rows of stone figures and enormous boulders with sparkling excitement. He didn’t even know what he was meant to do, yet he was optimistic. Always optimistic. About everything,  _ anything _ . It was intoxicating at times, his youthful determination. 

“Search the place,” Kite confirms. “See how far the ruins stretch, see if it’s worth saving, or if we’re just standing at a pile of rocks that lack value, or a story.”

“So should we split up?”   
  


_ Yes. Yes. Yes.  _ “Of course. You take the left side of the temple and I’ll take the right.”

“You got it!”

Kite watches as he dashes away, a skip in his step. For an instant, he remembers when he used to move like that. His own youth, in comparison, paled at the thought of Gon’s. 

Throughout the day, Kite scales the jagged structures and goes through his list of criteria while simultaneously keeping watch of Gon, who really doesn’t need a second eye, come to think of it. He does exactly as Kite has ordered, and he does it well. Kite wasn’t a bad teacher, by any means, he knew this. What he was unsure of was whether his lessons would imprint on his students. And for one of them, at least, he seems to have succeeded. 

They come together at the top of the hour, sweat dripping down from their necks and sliding down their chests as they go over what they’ve uncovered in the past few hours.

“I think it’s worth saving,” Gon picks at his fingers, playing with the dirt that has built up underneath his nails, “it looks like there’s a lot of valuable stuff in one of the catacombs.”

“You should have told me you were going underground,” Kite raises his concern.

“You said to do the  _ left side. _ You didn’t say don’t go underground,” Gon defends himself, “And stop babying me. I’m  _ not  _ your  _ student _ .”

Kite breathes heavily out of his nose just in time to hear him murmur under his breath, “Maybe if you remembered that, you’d sleep with me.”

“ _ Hey _ .” A hand grips Gon’s wrist and drags his body up close to Kite’s. A bad call that lacked better judgment. “No sex talk while we’re working. Or at  _ all _ , for that matter.”

Gon doesn’t satisfy the command with a response, his hand busying itself as it rubs sneakily against the sleeve of Kite’s thin long sleeve.

“That was rough…” He breathes. It sounds filthy and seductive coming out of his mouth, though the original context of Kite’s impulse lacks such a lust. He lets him go promptly, watching as Gon falls against the stone.

“Don’t do it again,” Kite orders.

“ _ You  _ don’t do it again.”

His eyes; those pure, innocent eyes that Kite could once look at with ease, were brimming with an insatiable hunger he shouldn’t--no,  _ couldn’t  _ encourage. Though, what was he doing to stop it to begin with? His words held no real weight, nothing that could truly stop Gon in his tracks. They were empty, hollow declarations that could be shattered with a single tap against the glass.

“Why do you think that the ruins are worth our protection?” Kite asks, wincing inside when he says ‘our’, “I may not be your teacher anymore, but I am a Hunter with a lot more experience than you.”

“Well…” Gon seems to have already forgotten about his bold flirtations, finger to his chin, “I found a lot of treasure. And yeah, it all looked expensive and, like, it could sell in the black markets or even the auctions for a lot of money, but it was more than that, Kite. It was…all the same, in a way. It belonged to one family, I think. All the gold and jewelry was marked with the same name, the same crest.”

“Do you remember the name?” Kite is shocked, to say the least. He hadn’t come upon that on his search. Though, he supposes Gon’s keen sense is to thank. It didn’t hurt to have it, the help. 

“I don’t. But it was on all the chests too. I feel like it’s…something that shouldn’t be sold. It could belong to the people that lived here or worshipped here.  _ If  _ they did any of that.”

“I think you’re right, that these temples existed for a purpose,” he assures Gon, “whether that purpose be to live, worship…” He pauses. “...or to hide.”

Gon’s lips purse and he nods, resting his chin in his hands.

“Whatever that purpose be, the temple shows signs of destruction,” Kite’s hand runs along the stone he sits on gently, “mass destruction. We should look if we see the crest anywhere else on the outer foundation. Figure out what the story is behind this place.”

“What if these people are the bad guys, though? What if they stole all this stuff and someone attacked to get it back?” Gon asks, and it’s so naive that Kite has to take a breath before answering the boy, settling his poor heart.

“There are no ‘bad guys’ or ‘good guys’ when it comes to preserving ruins. We don’t decide what’s worth protecting based on our own arbitral views on moral correctness. It doesn’t matter who’s the good guy, or who’s the bad guy. We protect what is valuable.”

“Then why do we care about the story to begin with?”

A laugh. Kite responds.

“A story is a story whether there’s a hero or not.”


	3. can't be friends, can't be family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all are well! here's a (longer than last time) update now ;-; hope you enjoy!

They return before nightfall, just as Kite had planned. He never veered off course despite having Gon teasing at him, touching him, and downright pestering him by the end of it. It was clear he wasn’t going to give this up, and Kite quite literally had no choice but to work with it.

Though, that was a bald-faced lie. There were options; _infinite_ options.

He was just ignoring them. Acting against his better judgment. And for what? He rejects Gon in broad daylight, but within the darkness that brewed in him, in the wee hours of the night, he knows he wouldn’t oppose him. The touches, the innuendos, the…

Kite can’t say it. Can’t think about it. To admit it would make him culpable.

“I’m hungry,” Gon hums beside him as they walk up the dirt path and slink through the alleyways into the main part of town, “when can we eat?”

“You’re on your own.” Though Kite already knows how this altercation will play out. 

“I don’t know why you won’t let me do _anything with you_.”

“Gon, it’s not like you’ve put me in a very comfortable spot,” Kite hisses, “need I remind you?”

“Seems like you haven’t forgotten.” He’s sly.

“Fine. _Fine_. What would you like to eat?”

“French fries,” Gon says it like he’s a child again, feet picking up their already quick pace.

“Just…french fries?”

“I mean, maybe a burger too or something, but I really would like some french fries.”

Yeah. Like a child.

“The restaurant I was eating at yesterday has burgers, I believe,” Kite cranes his neck to look down at the boy.

“That’s cool with me.”

They don’t talk after that. Gon, he notices, doesn’t make any advances. Their atmosphere almost feels empty without it, leaving a quiet drumming in his chest, anticipating it in its absence.

The sun set over Sealda, and the ambient darkness bled into the city, painting the buildings and the shops that drew their shutters for the night. A breeze danced in the air and Kite could feel the cold creeping onto his skin, awakening goosebumps beneath his shirt, previously damp with heavy sweat.

“I think I’m going to change my clothes before eating,” Kite nods in the direction of his hotel room, “you can wait here.”

“I wanna—”

“ _No._ ” Kite stops him before he can start, dig further into his core, “I am going upstairs. You stay down here.”

Gon, for once, doesn’t protest and seats himself on the edge of the sidewalk, his heels fidgeting against the asphalt. Kite wonders why he’s won this tug of war; perhaps because Gon knew he shouldn’t have gotten this far to begin with. To have dinner with Kite…yeah. It should have never gotten to that point.

But if it meant appeasing some of Gon’s desires, by a much safer means where he doesn’t have to cross a line he can’t come back from, he’ll take it any day. A compromise, where he doesn’t have to forcefully reject him but still give him something that will stick.

He changes into a thicker sweater, keeping the fall in temperature in mind as he goes through his clothing choices. 

Gon is still waiting for him outside of the hotel steps when he returns, in an artless, obedient position. Kite walks up to him, taps his shoulders and watches his knees fall from his chest.

“Let’s go,” he says, “do you have money?”

“I have money,” Gon says it as if he’s insulted him with the question, “what do you think I’ve been doing this whole time, fooling around?”

“What _have_ you been doing?” Kite wonders if he can push past a barrier here as they head to their destination. He knows only so much, but he has enough information to make some abstract conclusions. The first being that though Gon has sought him out with the most bizarre (though, maybe it’s not that bizarre considering his age, his current stage of life) of requests, something had to push him to leave. Gon, though he’s irrational and more likely to proceed without tact or understanding, has never acted out like this. Despite the endless ways, he was similar to Ging, it wasn’t like him to leave everything behind to seek out a single desire. 

Kite is reminded of when he met Gon and Killua for the first time when he considers this, how Gon was never able to meet his dad until a year later because he, at the time, refused to leave Killua’s side.

And now here he was, sans Killua. 

“I went back to Heavens Arena and made a lot of money,” Gon tells the story, _his_ story with excitement blooming in each word, “Killua came too but he was really bored, considering we’d been there already and went through it all, but I still had fun! There were new people and I was able to fight some of the people I lost to before!”

“That’s good, Gon.” Kite smiles. It’s the first time it feels like old times. 

“And after that, I went home.”

“Until you left.”

“Right.”

“Are you going to tell me why, yet?” He figures the more straightforward approach will work. Part of him, the part that latches onto the Gon he understood better, still feels he’ll respond to directness better than beating around the bush.

“It’s not important,” he combats, no, _insists_. Kite questions pushing any further, more fearful and conscious of Gon’s emotion as than figuring out what drove him into Kite’s helpless companionship.

The restaurant comes into view and the topic changes with fluid ease. Kite’s stomach growls, painful enough for him to fully drop the past conversation. He knows what he should have done, and it shouldn’t have been this. But he simply can’t be bothered, too enamored by the wide smile adorned on Gon’s face, stretching to rosy cheeks that glisten in the sunset before him.

Kite isn’t sure if he’s smiled like that since he’s arrived.

A hostess greets them almost immediately at the summoning of a single Hunter license, the small card pushing them to the front of the guest list. They’re seated just as promptly, bodies quick to weave through close-knit tables and jovial patrons, all feasting, laughing, and drinking. Kite was aware of the setting, the mood that was set for the dining room. The overhead lamps were dimmed low, the soft flame of muted candles their only true source of light. Baskets of roses hung above each small table, each one compact and clearly designed for two. Kite hadn’t thought twice about the rather romantic atmosphere seaming throughout the establishment when he was here by himself. And yet none of his instincts took him by the neck and told him to consider otherwise when offering this place as an option for the two of them. He’d hoped they would be brought to the roof again, for that would solve his problem tenfold. But the universe had a habit of siding against him when it counted.

Gon sits across from him eagerly, though it doesn’t show on his face as he thanks the hostess for her assistance. It’s in his fingers, the way they jitter as he settles. Gon’s body language spoke volumes and lengths past what his words could, but Kite had to stop paying attention that, had to stop _looking at his hands_. He needed to get control of this unraveling situation back before it was too late for him. It’s shameful, how little faith he has in himself, but his demons, his wants, were beginning to knock on the door, and they wanted out.

“What are you getting?” Gon asks. Kite looks up from his lap, head flicked in his direction as he reads the menu aimlessly despite having already decided on his meal before they arrived. Kite wasn’t sure of it, but he hoped his cheeks weren’t flushed. And if they were, he hoped the lack of visibility saved him from the attention. 

“I’m not sure.” His answer is curt as he puts up his own menu, scanning the items he’d already examined the night before. Over the bustling of the restaurant, he can hear Gon close his menu, paper rustling in his hands before he places it down on the table. They exist in a vacuum. 

“You could just get the same thing you got yesterday,” Gon rambles now, and Kite’s grip begins to close in tightly, “or you could try something new, or…”

With each second of his small talk, different parts of his body act with a common goal. His fingers trace across the menu he’s just placed on the table. The tip of the straw submerged in his water is tucked between his pink lips, and Kite can see where he bites down. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy’s foot began to rub up against his leg, testing his limits. And _god,_ just hearing his voice, so casual and unbothered by the environment he’s produced, the situation he’s created with his own crafty, deviant mind, makes Kite feel such a nauseating flurry of emotions that he can’t focus on anything else but the elephant in the room.

“Gon!” He snaps in a hushed whisper, cutting the bud of the last utterance of unimportant food options, “what has beguiled you to follow me around and _demand_ that you sleep with me?”

Silence floats between them, Gon’s eyes the only part of him that moves as he blinks at Kite. He stares back at the boy incredulously, matches the energy that’s being dished to him. It feels as though a band has snapped and tension has been released and filled all the same. Isn’t this what he wanted? What _Gon_ wanted?

“Do you have any idea what kind of position you put me in last night? What kind of request you’re asking for? The weight of it? The morality of it?”

“I—” The straw drops from his lips. 

“Have you ever even _had_ sex, Gon?” Kite tries to keep his voice low. He knows he shouldn’t even be engaging in this conversation in private, let alone in public. He’s actively making the narrow path wider but he needs the answers. 

“I haven’t!” Gon finally brings his eyes to meet Kite’s with a tearful gaze, “I can’t. I can’t have sex with anyone else and I want it. And I want it to be _you_ , Kite.”

He's a virgin. Kite hates how his heart leaps at the small, significant detail. It adds a heavy, undeniable weight to what Gon asks him. The truth about the responsibility that Gon is so forcibly trying to push on him. But it’s a responsibility that Gon _trusts_ Kite with.

“ _Why?_ ” He could cry from the stress of holding himself together.

“I can’t explain it. It just has to be you.”

“Gon, you’re not a child.” _Yes, he is._ “You should be able to explain why you want your mentor, who is 20 years older than you, to take your virginity.”

Speaking it into the air isn’t as dreadful as the past twenty-four hours of contemplation. Hearing it come out of his own mouth was an awakening, though he didn’t quite approve of how he was feeling in turn. 

“You don’t understand. I want this. I’ve wanted it for so long.”

_So long?_

“How long?”

Gon’s eyes beg for him. “Months. A year, maybe. I dunno.”

A waitress arrives then, acting as a steel rod, splitting the ice that had formed between them. Gon orders excitedly. Kite sits with his last utterance. For some reason, he found himself lining up his timeline to Gon’s, wondering what he’d been doing in that short span of a year where Gon ached for his affection. Is that what he wanted? Affection? Or was it just sexual gratification? Kite can’t separate the two, doesn’t know if they’re meant to be separated, but what he does know is that in the year that Gon pined, he mourned. Mourned what wasn’t even his to grieve over.

He orders after Gon, each word dragged out of his mouth and deepening the pit in his stomach as their time with their waitress, a welcome distraction, lessened.

“Alright, anything else?” She asks, closing her notepad with a perky smile. It was clear she couldn’t read the mood.

“Nope! We’re good!” Gon shoos her away, answering on behalf of them both.

She recites her adieu before leaving them alone, and it’s dreadful how the sudden light she provided vanishes, and Kite is left alone all over again, unsure of where to turn next, the wheel slipping from his hands.

“Kite, have you ever had sex?”

The question doesn’t take him aback, but it gives him whiplash. Has Kite ever had sex. It’s almost laughable. What Kite had been through was more than the mere act of sex between lovers. It was a never-ending adventure, infinite possibilities, and bursts of euphoria that would last him lifetimes, despite the little time he got to have it. Kite had only given himself to Ging. He’d made that decision long ago before their relationship had even accelerated to such an intimate level. But Kite knew. 

At least, he thought he did.

They didn’t have enough time. He hung onto their late nights, the hushed whispers they shared between filthy sheets. The sound of Ging’s laugh echoed in his mind at least once a night, more after nights they would come together. It’d been so long since then, and Kite coasted; hoping, _praying_ that Ging would come back to him after making love to him once more. 

Kite was wrong, though. And…so is Gon.

“It’s…not important.”

“You have, haven’t you?”

His cheeks burn. “It’s _not_ important.”

“Okay, can you cut it out? I know you had sex with my dad.”

Kite sputters on his next words. “T-Then why are you _asking?_ ”

“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

When could Ging have had the time to tell him this? To Kite’s understanding of the situation, which was almost always lacking in context, there couldn’t have been a moment where he could go into the depths of their relationship. It would be like Ging to provide Gon the bare minimum information about the two of them before he made his grand departure. Perhaps he didn’t go into the entire tale, didn’t discuss how they met or what they truly shared during those long summer nights. Just, told their story for what it was. 

“What did he tell you?”

“Not much of anything. Just that you two had fucked around a few times when you would meet up.”

It sounds exactly like a narrative Ging would spin. They worked, they fucked and they left.

“That’s it?” 

“Yeah…” Gon has recoiled quite a bit after revealing his knowledge, and Kite wonders if even he can’t handle the weight of what he’s saying, the severity of what he’s trying to wedge himself into.

“Well he’s right,” Kite gives him what he wants, “your father and I were involved in a sexual relationship.”

And it’s then that Kite wonders what kind of normal teenager wants to hear about their dad having sex, at _any_ point. If Kite had known his parents, he’d surely be repulsed by the thought. But Gon was never really normal, to begin with, he supposes. The boy sits across from him, listening as intently as before with an expression of stone. Unbreakable.

“Did you like it?”

 _Jesus Christ_. “Gon, I’m not discussing the details with you.”

“It’s just a question! Did you like it?”

“We’re done.” Kite cuts the space between them with conjoined fingers, the air that collects behind the gesture barely kissing the tip of Gon’s reddened nose. Silence follows after, and it’s a breath that he desperately needed. There was no time to think rationally when it came to Gon, and it was never easy to combat these invasive claims and questions. It threatens to choke him out to the last gasp.

Their food arrives moments later, steamy and enough to stall the conversation for the rest of the night. When Kite returns to his empty shell of a hotel room, he falls asleep with the steady truth of Gon’s virgin status. It should change something within him, it should change _everything_.

But it doesn’t, and Kite fears it never will.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The night’s end didn’t stop the assault on his conscience. For two weeks, they went through a routine. It was only natural, considering the more moderate mission, on a need-to-operate basis. Most of their work required keeping a close watch on their objective. Kite put them on a watch schedule, offering to take the morning shifts while letting Gon take the late nights.

 _“I can do it, Kite! I’m not a kid anymore!”_ He’d protested wildly, spouting claims just like that for ten minutes before Kite finally caved and let him take the night shift. He thought he was being generous, letting Gon return home to his hotel a little earlier instead of staying up and fighting sleep. Hell, he thought he was being _more_ than generous by letting him take a watch by himself rather than with Kite. He understands that Gon has grown, but it doesn’t mean he trusts him on a mission of this caliber on his own.

It contrasts his means of training Gon and Killua back when they were pre-teens. Kite didn’t want them to hold him back, didn’t want them to fall behind and trip on their own feet. So he forced them to keep up, told them if they fell behind here there was nothing left for them in the future. 

The truth of their training left Kite with little reason to baby Gon, but he stuck to it. He could handle himself, but responsibility buried him. Perhaps it was the part of him that couldn’t accept that they were equals. Or it was that part of Kite wouldn’t let a single thing happen to Gon if he had a say in it.

It was the very nature of this mission that left more room for conversation, though. Kite wishes, sometimes, that he’d stepped out of Ging’s shadow and become a Beast Hunter. But love drove his every decision whenever Ging was involved. 

Kite would be the only one that needed to be awake during the early comings of dawn, but Gon would make his way to their little makeshift watchtower--a worn down building that sat a good distance from the ruins, with wide windows and plenty of space for them to set up a small base of operations--once in a while, sleep still plaguing his cedar eyes as he sat beside him. Kite didn’t have the energy to argue in the morning. 

“What are we gonna eat for breakfast?”

“Don’t know,” Kite rubs exhaustion from his eyes, wishes he’d slept longer than the painful three hours he managed to gain. “You should sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because I wish I could.” To be this tired left his gates somewhat open and unbridled, a perfect opportunity for Gon to pounce. But Kite’s body burned when he stretched and his breath tasted like regrets, the aftermath of a long night between him and a bottle of wine.

“Oh. Are you tired, Kite?”

He’s about to tell Gon that it doesn’t matter, that it’s his own time to watch and his turn to sleep, but Gon reaches up to touch his face, gentle and earthy.

“Gon, please…” Kite begs, but his arms don’t move to remove Gon’s hands from his cheeks. The warm, smooth press of the pads of his fingers, sinking into Kite’s tired skin, it feels good. The alarms ring in the back of his head, danger blaring in bright red flashes, but suddenly he’s not tired and that’s all he wants right now. 

“Your face is so stretchy,” Gon tugs below his eyes, “is this what happens when you get old?”

“Something like that.” He isn’t even offended. Thirty-seven isn’t _that_ old, anyway.

“Hm…” He’s released from the touch, soothing but misery-inducing all the same. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it so pressing that you can’t go back to bed?”

“Not really, but I’m not tired anymore.”

Despite his honesty, Kite doesn’t believe him. “Sure, shoot. What’s up.”

A smile lights Gon’s face. “What was it like traveling with my dad?”

“What was it like?” Kite repeats it, even has to ask himself on an interval level, “I mean, it was as fun as it was a learning experience. Your dad is the reason why I’m the Hunter I am today. You and I know the kinds of things he was capable of, after all.”

“He told me, like, everything I think. But he never told me how he found it all.”

“Ging is someone who has plans so intricate that he’s the only one that can understand them.”

“Not really fair,” Gon purses his lips afterward, his fleece jacket plucked tighter against his body, “he should just be direct. Why can’t people just be direct, like you?”

“Like me?” He asks incredulously. Kite wouldn’t even consider himself a direct in some cases, most of those cases being Gon cases. His actions and his words never lined up. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, you’re always straight up. I remember how honest you were when you trained Killua and I. It was really refreshing.”

It was funny to Kite, honesty being cool. It _should be_ , but that’s not usually the way things go. “Your training was meant to be that way. It was to turn you into the best Hunter you could possibly be.”

Gon kisses his teeth. “I appreciate it, you know. What you did for…us.”

Kite can still feel him prickle at any mention of ‘us’. He knows it’s dangerous territory, but he considers it his responsibility to get to the bottom of what’s irking the boy. To figure it out while he’s still here, crowding the air and taking up space, which Kite didn’t really mind at all, deep down. 

“Gon.” He turns to face him, early morning sunshine glistening on his cheeks, “What happened between you and Killua?”

His expression doesn’t shift at the question, stone cold. “Is it that obvious?”

“It can’t be that bad,” Kite tries to weigh just how much Gon has been harboring since he’d arrived a week or so ago, “talk to me.”

“He just,” Frustration consumes him in a way that Kite has never seen before, “we had a falling out. He doesn’t talk to me like he used to anymore, and I don’t know what to do. So I left.”

 _How unlike them_. Kite couldn’t think back to a time where he and Killua had fought throughout all their time together. The two of them were peas on a pod, naturally, but their bond had surpassed simple companionship. It was something ridiculously stronger; something that he’d wished he’d worked harder for in his youth. “You two never fight.”

“I know, but it’s his fault,” Gon mutters, “he’s so… _ugh_.”

“Ugh?”

“He still doesn’t want me.”

“Doesn’t…want you?” 

“We…like, kissed and stuff.”

Gon blushed a deep red and Kite realizes that this is what it’s been all along. They’re in a relationship. It’s like looking into a mirror, immediately brought back to his youth with Ging at the same fruitful age of seventeen, just like him. Ging never gave their affections a name, never bothered to, so he could understand to an extent where Gon’s frustrations were born from. 

“So you guys fight because he doesn’t like you anymore? Did he say why?”

“No, he does like me still. I think. We argued because he won’t commit! I’m here, and I want him, and he just pushes himself away. I don’t understand it. He won’t even tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“He doesn’t?”

“All he says is that I don’t understand,” Gon stands to pace, his exclamations echoing outside of the building, “and he says ‘Gon you’re not direct’ but I don’t understand how! I’m being so straightforward and obvious that I want him and he doesn’t answer me! And what more is there left to say!--” He takes a breath, “--he just--and Kurapika and Leorio don’t get it either, and Aunt Mito keeps getting on my back about stuff and I just…had to leave.”

Kite averts his gaze, taking his hat off and combing his fingers through his hair. He’s glad to have context now, but it still doesn’t explain why he’s here. Why he wants to get _intimate_. 

“So you find me,” he completes the puzzle, and Gon nods. The sleeves of his jacket cover the callouses bruised into his palms, and Kite is almost inclined to take him into his arms and tell him things will work themselves out. Because that’s what he needs to hear now, isn’t it? Shouldn’t Kite be able to do just that?

“Gon, why do you want to have sex with me?” There’s no real reason why he’s asking a second time other than the mere possibility he might get an actual answer other than ‘I want you’. Though, nothing was really _wrong_ with that answer.

A minute passes before Gon sighs. “I, thought about you sometimes, when it got late. I missed you.”

Kite doesn’t need to decipher this. He already knows what he means. “You can’t think about me like that.”

“I can’t help it!” His mouth turns into a helpless frown as he tries to defend himself, “I don’t know why I like you so much. I mean--” he sighs, “after I started fighting with Killua, everyone kept telling me I was overreacting. No one understood what I was saying. But you understand me, you always have. And you're a good listener. Everything was going wrong, and I figured it was a long shot, but hey, might as well see how good of a hunter I am and track you down.”

Kite’s mouth runs dry, his internal clock ticking back to his mess of emotions the day Gon made his first appearance in Sealda. He hadn’t a clue how much of an influence he had on Gon. Killua certainly didn’t attach the same way. Gon was special. 

“I needed you. I _still_ need you.”

The conversation ends there, for Kite doesn’t have the words to respond. Gon seems to have not a single argument in turn. He reached out, patting Gon’s back and nothing more. It was the most he felt like he could do at this point without steering his intention in the wrong direction. Because one wrong move and Kite is positive he’ll unintentionally give Gon a green light.

Deep down, he felt for him. Felt _bad_ for him, despite his other needs. But soon enough, Kite is going to have to accept that Gon gets closer and closer each day to peeling him apart.

And the worst part? They both know it.

The sun rises to its home in the sky, bestowing its light in full. Kite studied it as it rose. He wondered if a day would come where he wouldn’t dread the coming of a new day as much as he anticipated it.


	4. i don’t want to hurt you, but you live for the pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo and welcome back :)  
> been hopping around and working on a bunch of other stuff i know i need to get updated on this acc but here's chapter four for you all!
> 
> as always, thank you for reading <3 i appreciate you all!

“Gon, have you ever considered having sex with someone else?”

An entire day has passed, and while the two of them sit in their watchtower, surrounded by the soothing sounds of the night and all its other offerings, Kite considers a solution he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of before. He was unable to shake the conversation from earlier this morning, matter what he did. The reality of what Gon wants from him makes itself clearer and clearer with each passing day, each  _ second _ , carving itself out of thick, jaded stone to appear with smoothed, defined edges. And the clearer it gets, the heavier the weights on Kite’s ankles become. Because every time they have this conversation, he’s more okay with it than the last. He’s rationalizing rather than deflecting, encouraging him, versus disappointing him. 

Does he even have the guts to refuse him? His confidence in his own strength is presently laughable. 

The younger looks up from his paper cup, half-filled with hot chocolate he’d been slowly making progress on as time passed.

“Someone…else?”

“Yeah,” Kite responds, surprised at how foreign of an idea it seems to be for him, “someone around your age that you could, you know, go out with, go home with them…”

Hook-up culture isn’t one that Kite wishes to promote, but on the opposing end, he doesn’t serve as an authority. He’s only been intimate with one man, after all. Maybe there’s something he was missing out on the entire time he was out galavanting with Ging day and night. When he was  _ around _ , at least.

“I don’t really want anyone else.”

“Have you attempted?”

“I just know it won’t work, deep down.” Gon explains, “It’s like, have you ever just been instantly reminded of something you get sick eating sometimes? And it makes you really sick and suddenly you don’t feel hungry?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Well whenever I try to touch someone else like that, I feel like that. I don’t want to have sex with them.”

“So you have sought out others?”

“Sometimes I just get, really  _ horny  _ I guess, and I tried to take care of it myself in the past, but it didn’t do much. And Killua stopped doing stuff with me after a while, so I sought people out.”

Kite recalls a time when the mere notion of Gon’s expanding sexuality wasn’t conceivable. He was sweet, little Gon, who only wanted to become the best Hunter he could be with the world at his fingertips. Now they spoke of horniness, and Kite’s stomach twists each time with an urge to quench his thirst. 

He shakes his head.  _ Stop it. _

“Who…have you sought out?”

“I dunno,  _ people _ . Girls, boys, Hisoka—“

“Who’s Hisoka?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gon’s hand wraps tighter around his cocoa, “he doesn’t want the same thing as me. Shockingly.”

Kite shakes off the mention of ‘Hisoka’, doesn’t dare to inquire further along that tangent. “So you tried to get with someone, and you would feel sick.”

“Repulsed. I wasn’t sure about it all, but then I realized that the only times I didn't feel nauseous were with Killua, and thinking about you.”

Kite sighs. That sick sense of pride creeps into his gut once he finishes saying it all, the last word hanging in the air with each and every one of his treacherous, unexplainable imaginations.

“Right.”

“If I could turn it off, I would.” Gon says, though his face visibly shifts into something different, and he backtracks, “Actually, I don’t know about that.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I like you because you’re a good person. I trust you.” He explains, “And I don’t want to turn that off.”

Besides, what made him so trustworthy in that sense? Of course, he has accolades in many different areas, all pertaining to the job he’s been trained his entire life to do. But outside of a few guiding conversations and the intimacy that came with long, grueling missions that would span over months, there was nothing that could equate to the trustworthiness that should come with sex. Those levels of trust existed on two different planes, utterly incomparable. 

He should be the trustworthy adult that Gon deserves, send him home like he’s been meaning to for  _ weeks _ , but with the desperation to convince the boy, comes an irrefutable sense of pride that  _ he’s  _ the one Gon chose. And it’s that pride that stops him from fully committing to the lesson he’s trying to teach. 

“Gon,” Kite’s cheeks burn, but he’s determined to fight it off, lie straight through his teeth if he has to, “Sex is something really special and important. You can’t just throw away your first time with somebody to anyone.”

“You’re not just  _ anyone _ . You’re Kite.”

“ _ Exactly _ ,” He says, exasperatedly, “I’m me. You’re you. You shouldn’t be trying to give something so important away to me. We live in different worlds.” 

“We don’t  _ have  _ to be!” Gon argues.

Kite’s heart pangs, the pain practically blinding him. And yet, another rejection follows. “You should be exploring with someone your own age. Someone of the same mind as you, someone you can relate to.”

“Do we…not relate to each other?” 

“We relate to…things that have to do with being Hunters,” Kite gazes out to the ruins, mossy walls appearing black with so little sunlight, “fighting, tactical skill. Our profession is not the same as such intimacies.”

“But we could if we tried.”

_ We can’t try. _

“Would it be so awful if I had you to guide me through it?” Gon sips his drink, briefly. “Like training. But we…”

_ We make love _ , Kite finishes for him, internally. Though, is it making love if neither of them love each other like that? Wait. 

_ Did Gon love him? _

Kite peers at him from his peripheral. The boy’s gaze is chill and tempered, nose buried between the space between his joined knees as he looks to the horizon before them. Gon doesn’t look upset, but he’s certainly thinking. It’s a good sign, maybe. Perhaps he’s finally thinking over his words and choices leading up to now. 

“You should go home,” He suggests, “I understand you’re hurt, and confused, probably needed to clear your head. But there are other paths besides this one.”

“So it’s still an option, right? Having sex? Because you’re not saying it’s  _ not  _ a choice, anymore.”

“It’s not a choice Gon..”

“I still don’t believe you.” Gon tucks into himself more.

Kite sighs.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Ging’s laugh is something from a songbird, to Kite. It rings just right, doesn’t pain him to hear. But would anything Ging ever do pain him, really? _

_His hand traces smooth, indeterminable patterns_ _into his skin, creeping from the dip of his spine to the hill of his shoulder blade. Ging had said something that didn’t really make sense to Kite, but he was laughing and that’s all that really mattered to him as his face glistened in the moonlight that peeked into their hotel room._

_ “I wish you could have been there,” Ging murmurs. Kite still doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about, completely wiped and drunk on a romantic haze, “you would have kicked some serious ass.” _

_ “Probably,” Kite ignores the way that Ging sounds like a high schooler in his twenties and instead fixates the eyes that stare him down endearingly. The hand that touched upon his back threads through his long, elegant mane now, with the occasional gentle massage to his scalp. _

_ “You’re pretty,” Ging grins, “for a man.” _

_ “I have effeminate features, to an extent. I feel like it’s just the hair, though.” _

_ “I like it,” He shrugs, “I like it all. It suits you.” _

_ “Mmm, yeah.” Kite pushes upward so he can rest his head on Ging’s chest, the stubble riddled along his skin tickling his flushed cheek, still coming down from their rather explicit encounter almost a half-hour ago. _

_ “Do you get hot in the summer?” Ging murmurs as he presses his nose to the side and inhales deeply, “it has to be uncomfortable.” _

_ Kite shivers, goosebumps making their way down his back as his scent is taken in by his lover. He loved when Ging took a hold of him like this when they consumed nothing but each other. “It’s not that hot,” he responds when he can gather his thoughts for a moment, “heat never really bothered me.” _

_ “I guess I don’t have an excuse to have you tie it up.” _

_ They laugh, hushed and quiet as their breaths mingled together, but deep down Kite knew that Ging didn’t need an excuse to ask this of him. He would do anything for him if asked. _

_ “We should sleep,” Ging reaches over him to pull the covers over their bodies, exhausted from lovemaking, “got a lot of shit to do tomorrow.” _

_ “But the work is basically done, isn’t it?” _

_ “Yeah, it’s just a matter of making sure everything is perfect once we leave. You know how I operate.” _

_ “No room for error, now or ever.” Kite smirks as he glances at his hands, a personification of just how much they’d done in such a short time. He expected nothing less, really, from the standard that Ging upheld. _

_ “Right,” He smiles, goofy and bright as he takes Kite into his grasp, pulling him into a tight cuddle. His arms bind tight around his torso before he nuzzles his nose into his hair once more. These nights, the ones where Ging was silly and romantic with him and stripped off his rather stoic and serious mask, were the best ones.  _

_ “Goodnight, Kite.” _

_ “Goodnight Ging.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s sweaty when Kite wakes. Frantically, his head flickers about the room. The blinds shield the moonlight from entry and he reaches for them in an instant, relief heaving through his chest as light floods the room.

He doesn’t dare to look beside him. Ging isn’t there.

It was a dream. A beautiful bliss sounds more accurate, though. Kite hasn’t dreamed of him in ages, but it makes sense that he would now, of all times. It felt so real for a moment like he’d entered a time machine and lived each and every minute of that night all over again. Kite remembers it so vividly, down to the scratches Ging left near the dip of his hips. He stared down at them now, hating how regretfully pale and empty they were now, lacking such love marks.

“I can’t believe this…” He murmurs, rubbing tired eyes over tired hands. The time reads 3:24 AM.  _ So late… _

Kite missed being twenty for a lot of reasons. His body moved better, not that there was much of a difference, to begin with, and things were certainly more exciting when he was a pupil and not a teacher. But to miss all he’d ever loved with his whole heart, all while lacking the ability to bring them back into his life, was measurably worse. 

He and Ging had something, without a doubt, didn’t they? The memories, the dreams, they all made Kite feel inclined to think so. But to this day he still couldn’t understand what went wrong, what  _ he  _ did wrong. To have all that love between them just fall away without an explanation…he knew Ging was a creature of habit; always moving, headstrong and running to a nameless goal. But for a while, Kite was that goal. Kite was the unnamed destination. And to this day, he doesn’t know how he lost that title. 

A headache is on the horizon, without a doubt. He’d have to be up in an hour or so. Was there really a point in going back to sleep if he was going to be plagued with flashes of the dream?

After pondering for a short while, Kite decides it’s better off to start his morning shift a bit earlier than normal. It would be better for both him and Gon, fast asleep in his hotel room. Kite saunters to the window, pushing it open just a tad to get a bit of the breeze to rub against him.  _ Cold _ . It can’t be helped, though. The chilly mornings were something he packed and prepared for anyway. 

Once he was dressed he made headway for their watchtower, taking advantage of the fresh air that flowed past as he ran. It did wonders, clearing his head. The hotel room was too resemblant of the rooms that he and Ging would hole up in, didn’t do much for emotional healing. The fact that he could look at his own bed and see images close to his past was a jarring thing. 

The hideout was only ten to twenty minutes away, but the anxiety that fueled his speed brought him to the entrance of the abandoned building in ten. The first thing he notices is the lack of change from the morning. Which is  _ strange _ , because Gon usually has an irritating tendency of moving things around constantly, to the point where each time Kite arrives, things are rarely ever in the place he left them. 

But here it all was; the stone they used as a lift to the second floor is in its position, as well as the branches and bushes they used to hide it. Kite glanced at the shelf above him, uneasy with the almost photographic perfection.

He scales the building, slips through the open window to the top floor, not a single sound to be heard throughout the structure as his feet touch down on the ground. There isn’t a living thing within the meeting hall, and just beyond the pillars that were scattered about was their main base of operations. And Kite might have been crazy, even delusional from lack of sleep, but he saw a body that wasn’t meant to be there.

Creeping closer, Crazy Slots in his strong hand, Kite makes his presence visibly aware to the intruder, aura still hidden. When the person doesn’t move, he takes a careful hand and presses it against the glass door. Perhaps intruder is a harsh word to use, because the chances of someone knowing who they are, why they’re here, and why they use this  _ specific  _ place, are rare. Despite it being a possibility, the town was small, and the people were kind. Kite’s prickly defenses, though logical and a product of his own training, felt a bit unnecessary.

And maybe it was the nature of his current situation, all the different conflicts coming at him from different directions, but something ate at him, begging him to just  _ relax _ . 

Kite pushes the door open fully. The door bangs loudly against the wall behind it, and his eyes fall on the intruder: Gon, still posted where Kite had left him. Absolutely asleep.

“Oh…” 

Gon snores softly in his rock pile seat, chin dug into his open palm. Suddenly the familiar setting downstairs makes sense. He never went back home. 

The sun rose behind him, but unlike other mornings, Kite didn’t feel the same burst of energy at the emergence of its rays. As he stared down at Gon, he realized how badly he wanted to sleep. How much he  _ and  _ Gon probably needed that right now.

Telling himself a single shift missed wouldn’t be the end of the world, Kite hoists Gon into a fireman’s carry, careful of accidentally leaving his body to flail, lest he wakes him. This is the closest he’s been, he notices. The warmth from Gon’s breath blooms along his skin as he adjusts his heavy head, allowing it to fall into the crook of his neck, rendering Kite even more flustered than before. 

If he were awake, he would be devious right now. Press a kiss to his neck, muzzle his nose against his skin, try to get a rise out of him. It’s absolutely irritating to him that Gon is the one that holds the cards, that will decide their fate. That he is the single weight that forces Kite’s will one way or the other.

The building lingers further and further away as he runs back to the hotel, the boy in his protective hold still as ever. When they arrive at Kite’s hotel he isn’t asked any questions, as expected. A quick flash of license and a knowing glance, for the receptionist, was aware of who Gon was. It’s a long walk up the stairs afterward, careful not to wake him, while also hyper-aware of the heat that vibrates against him. Now that he’s not running, it’s easier to sense. His heart rattles in its cage with each step he takes, the next seemingly higher than the last. Gon’s cheek burns a gaping hole into his bicep. Only a few more, he tells himself. He’s almost there.

It’s a balancing act to get his key out, his last bit of energy left used to turn the lock on the door and kick it open, catching it before it slams on the wall inside. 

The first thing he does is drop the key on the floor, crossing to the bed and dropping Gon atop the duvet. Next, blankets. It’s not that cold, but Kite knows how he gets when he sleeps. No matter the weather, he needed one. 

Kite covers him with the sheets and nothing more, watching as Gon sleepily clutches onto the large pillow and curls around it. The movement is swift as if he’s on automatic, awake, and aware of his surroundings. 

Is he awake?

Soft snores tell a different story, so Kite waits for a while, watches his chest rise and fall, listening to the soft puffs of air that punch from his chest. He wondered if he’d hear it all night; a dull, evocative metronome.

At some point, he moves, settles in the large chair that sits beside the draped window on the opposite side of the room. His back will hurt in the morning, but not nearly as much as his head does. Kite falls victim to sleep in minutes, almost forgets about the boy that sleeps in his bed.

Almost.

  
  
  
  
  


A stubby hand gingerly caresses his hair. It’s familiar, feels like early mornings in unnamed cities. Kite doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to. He leans into the touch, drowsy from rest and barely conscious enough to determine whether this is real or not. Part of him feels that he’s dreaming of Ging again. If it was true, he didn’t mind it. He wants to stay there, with him. It’s easier to focus on the delicate strokes against his scalp than whether he’s living nothing but a figment of his fleeting memories, easier to relax into the heat pooled in his lap. If he opens his eyes, takes even a peek, he’s sure it’ll disappear.

But when he does open them, ever so slowly, it doesn’t stop. The movement, the glide of it remains, but the fantasy has completely dissipated. When he can filter out the white morning light, Gon’s golden eyes, still filled with sleep, are the first part of him Kite sees. He’s closer than this morning. Much closer. 

“Your hair is so long,” he murmurs idly as if Kite isn’t looking up at him. His eyes rush down to the body in his lap, and up again in utter horror as he continues to thread his hair through his fingers, “it feels like Killua’s.”

It definitely doesn’t. The textures of their hair look different whether one is looking from afar or as up close as Gon is. He knows Gon only said it to use against him; used to coax and persuade. Why is he even contemplating it? Comparing himself to Killua?

“Gon, please get off my lap.” Kite’s morning has started with a headache and his patience is thin.

“You were enjoying it.” Gon doesn’t cease. In fact, it almost feels like he’s moving slower.

“I’ll throw you off of me if you don’t get up in five seconds.”

Gon takes every single one of those seconds before lifting himself off of him. Kite wonders if they were as fast for Gon as they were for him.

“You were muttering in your sleep,” Gon sits on the bed, “woke me up. So I checked on you. And your hair…”

“What about my hair, Gon?”

He struggles with the next words for a reason Kite can’t seem to grasp. “I’ve never seen you with your cap off. It just looked really nice. I wanted to touch it.”

The thoughtless acts of the young, purely based on emotion and instinct rather than rational thought and reasoning, would always fascinate Kite the same way they made him envious. Responsibility, resistance, thought, it’s all exhausting.  _ He’s  _ exhausted. No matter how long he sleeps, he’ll never rid himself of this alone. And the one person that can free him from his prison, has no intention of doing so, acting on the pure  _ luxury  _ of being able to act and think without a second thought. Kite isn’t even sure envy is the word, in need of a bigger term to encapsulate the feeling that’s brewing in his stomach like a kettle ready to shriek and boil over.

“Think before you act,” Kite says curtly.

Gon’s hands intertwine with each other, fingers overlapping each other before applying harsh, nervous pressure to them. “I can’t think when I’m with you, Kite…”

Kite cements himself in his seat against his will. His body is unmoving, melding deeper into the soft cushion and wooden armrests. His heart begs for release, for freedom, for the sentence to remain unfinished. Kite’s on his knees. He hasn’t the strength to do what needs to be done. 

“I just act.”

Silence.

“And you should too.”


	5. your skin turns red when you lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm late. i'm so sorry. finals week got in the way of the writing that i would have done this week so, here we are :(
> 
> forgive me :'( 
> 
> also enjoy!

Two weeks after he’d woken to Gon on his lap, there had been a significant shift in their game, and their relationship. Kite was fully aware of the momentous change in this battle, resorting to silence more than fighting back, hoping Gon, the most stubborn person he knows, will tire himself out and lose interest in him. It’s Kite’s last plan that he thinks will work. Anything but caving into temptation. 

Gon was wearing him down. They both knew. 

And though he was losing an uphill battle, he still managed to flip between indulgence and rejection of his desires. He hadn’t fully yielded, no. There was still rationality speaking to him deep within. Some nights he went to sleep after a pep talk, a rambling of reasons why he shouldn’t engage, shouldn’t encourage. These nights came with a mantra he’d managed to memorize, one that would calm him, rock him to sleep when it seemed the most impossible.

But other nights, ones where the days had been too long, hours stretching into each other with each one spent in Gon’s presence? They would end with him rutting his hand, embarrassed at his depravity. 

He hated how his emotions flipped, how he could be strong one day and weak the next with a flip of a switch, with a single word from Gon that threw him into a tailspin.

There still wasn’t an explanation for his apparent attraction to Gon. The only one that existed was the one that he wanted to avoid the most. Because it was pitiful, absolutely ridiculous, and unbelievable, and for him, one of his biggest shames. A reason he doesn’t feel he deserves to have and use, because it’s all  _ his  _ fault in the end, that he couldn’t get him to stick around. A reason that Gon himself knows. Probably  _ has  _ known, to be frank.

Maybe one day Kite would accept it, acknowledge it. Dissect it, even. But this week, this month, this  _ year _ , wasn’t the time.

They had more meals together, upon Gon’s request. Breakfast and lunch weren’t a problem; they were usually on the run with no time to sit down and work through a slow meal, so everything was quick and to go. With all their time dedicated to the ruins, there was little time for Gon to slide in with seductive remarks and touches. 

Kite didn’t expect him to be as interested in preserving the ruins as he was. Whatever he said the first day they came out must have worked in terms of inspiring him. Each morning and night he arrived on the scene with the same, untapered enthusiasm he gave everything. In the beginning, he thought it was all a farce. An attempt to get closer to Kite through appeasing to him and engaging in what he loves. But he was pleased to see the opposite unraveling. It made spending time with Gon less of a moral strain, for they had their moments where they could laugh as if these past few days of close encounters and newfound intimacy hadn’t been happening. 

They’d made a lot of progress, with little to no hiccups. Kite couldn’t say much other than the fact that they were on a solid path to success. And in part, it was thanks to Gon. There was no imbalance of work they put in to make this happen, nor did he slack off in any way. He was a fine Hunter. Kite hadn’t a single apprehension on that matter.

It was the nights, where they took off and were meant to find solace in their separate worlds, that was the problem. Since that morning in Kite’s bedroom, Gon had no problem intruding in spaces where he knew he shouldn’t have been. He knew Kite wouldn’t have the power to say anything otherwise. This is where he used it. 

They visited the restaurant with the romantic undertones that Kite disliked much more than he would prefer. But there was also ease that settled in his gut when he remembered that he wasn’t being roped into a trap he didn’t know anything about. Gon didn’t seem to be trying anything new; just pushing the same buttons that had been tested out before. Kite takes it as a sign that they might be coming upon the light at the end of the tunnel. That Gon’s small attention span will render him uninterested and send him packing, just as he planned and prayed it would.

So he sat through the dinners, making the best of a bad situation that could have been worse. He and Gon would talk. Gon would let an adrift finger brush against Kite’s hand when they both reached for the salt at the same time. Kite would look away and pay him no mind. That was the pattern, for the most part. But he could handle it. The touches, the lewd comments, the stares, the tuck of Gon’s bottom lip between his teeth before he would ask him a question--

He…thought too much about it sometimes. But it didn’t change the fact that nothing happened remotely close to the encounter from weeks before. That is, until now.

They return from another long day in the ruins, the coldness of the night wrapping comfortably around them and airing out the sweat that covered them from head to toe. Instead of a quick dash back home (Kite thinks it’s okay to call his room home for now), they’ve opted for a walk. It was a unanimous vote; the night was beautiful, stars twinkling like they hadn’t been out in days, missed being able to shine. Kite’s legs burned just slightly as they traveled further, but he welcomed it. It helped him stay awake, as well as made him more enthusiastic to fall into bed. 

Gon hasn’t mentioned anything about food yet, so he opts to ask, wondering if he’s just as tired as he is.

“Are you feeling food?”

“Just wanna grab something…” Gon yawns, “grab something and…mmm…sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” His exhaustion is contagious, and Kite almost forgets to hide his grin, more than willing to have a peaceful evening to himself.

“Happy to get out of our obligatory dinners, I see.”

Kite flushes, caught in his own crown of thorns. “I mean, it’s just important that we learn to spend time apart as well as together. As partners, if we see each other too much and get sick of each other and--”

“You’re lying.”

Kite blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You’re lying,” Gon glances up at him, eyes settled on the spot between his eyes. “Your skin flushes red when you lie.”

He reaches up to touch his cheek without realizing it. A tell? Kite didn’t think he had one. 

“What, have you been watching me?”

“Sometimes,” Gon drags his feet against the dirt path now, sand building and falling in its wake, “it’s just easy to tell when it comes to you.”

“What other times have I lied?”

“You lied about being attracted to me.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s what you’d like to think—”

“Kite, sometimes you can’t look at me.” Gon interrupts him and Kite’s mouth falls shut. “Why?”

“What?”

He struggles to put together an answer. “I…”

“It’s because I look like him, isn’t it?”

“Gon…” Nausea overtakes him, a brutal ambush, and suddenly Kite is more focused than ever on quelling the acid bubbling in his stomach.

“I mean it’s the only thing that makes sense. I know I look a little like my dad, anyway. It’s not something I  _ didn’t  _ notice. I’ve seen pictures and stuff.”

Kite remains silent. 

“But  _ you’ve  _ noticed it, haven’t you?”

This was an interaction that Kite wasn’t prepared for by any means. He hadn’t considered the fact that Gon would be aware that he looked so similar to him. It was a reservation that Kite thought was private, something that only  _ he  _ could recognize. Because no one knew Ging the way he did in order to spot the similarities. Where did Gon see pictures? What pictures were they? Was Kite in them too?

“You and Ging aren’t the same.” He repeats, “I’ve told you this before.”

“But the similarity between us is uncanny, isn’t it?” Gon presses, “You’ve definitely noticed it.”

He sighs. “I have.”

“And you still don’t want me?”

Nothing. Kite doesn’t even know if he can find the right words to respond to that one.

“Fine.” 

Gon passes him until he’s in front of Kite and pushing against his chest. He stops walking, only looks at Gon tiredly.

“You’re not gonna say anything? At all?”

Kite doesn’t want to say anything. He wants to push Gon onto the ground and kiss him until  _ he’s  _ the one that has nothing to say, nothing to combat. Here and now, Kite wants nothing but to succumb and unravel, fall into temptation like a wilted flower and sink to the bottom. He wants him; he’ll admit to that on his own where no one’s around to judge him and his thoughts. But airing it out to Gon himself has always been the limit. Acting is the tipping point, but acting on it is jumping face-first off the cliff. 

So he seals himself shut and zips it all up, tight enough so Gon can’t slip through the creases. Because he’s going to lose it. And he  _ can’t  _ lose it.

“You’re the  _ worst _ , Kite.”

_ Noted. Leave. _

“Why can’t you do it? I  _ smell  _ it on you. You want it too!”

“That doesn’t matter, Gon!” He yells and it’s loud enough to still the entire town, his voice echoing against practically empty buildings. Gon chokes on his next words, scared to silence.

“I’m the worst?  _ I’m  _ the worst? For doing what’s right?” He laughs, throws his hands to the sky like a madman, “You have no idea what you’re asking for,  _ still _ . You and your constant pushing and prodding and manipulating. We can’t get what we want all the time, Gon!”

Kite doesn’t give him a moment to reply. He feels like he’s on fire, his clothes burnt to a crisp and skin next in line, a dangerous cocktail of arousal, guilt, sadness, and infuriation at the heart of it all.

“When are you going to wake up and see the big picture?! No matter what you or I feel this isn’t happening.”

“Stop  _ lying  _ Kite!”

“Stop lying to  _ yourself,  _ Gon!” Kite gulps down the fresh wave of hurt that racks through him when sees Gon’s face scrunch up. “Leave! Stop this! I don’t want you here!”

“Tell me that to my fucking face!” He cries out, tears pooling down chubby red cheeks. Kite wants to die. “Tell me you don’t want me here to my face.”

Kite crouches down in an instant--though it feels more like his body is sinking in molasses--to glare at him, pushes down any and all imagery of his past lover before reciting the same words to the boy, spitting them in his face like he doesn’t mean the entire world and more to Kite.

“I don’t want you here.  _ Leave _ .”

The commotion between them stills, and Kite tries to control the heavy rise and fall of his chest. It reminds of him the first night Ging left when he was young, and he sobbed into scratchy pillowcases for days. He’d been dragged into a panic like no other that night, every part of him in blaring, unbearable pain as he tried to come to terms with what was then, the present. It was more uncomfortable than anything, really, being that Kite had never cried over another human being in his life, not even once. But it was Ging, after all. 

And even after all that, Kite still doesn’t think he’s ever experienced true heartbreak at its full, sobering core. But the look on Gon’s face…he feels like it’s pretty damn close to what it could be.

Without another word, he walks, no,  _ runs  _ away.

Kite doesn’t follow. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t mean a single word he said, thinking back on it. The hotel room felt much louder than it usually was. Even without the notorious culprits-- the furor from the streets, the exclamation from the neighboring rooms, things that when missing should ease him--, there’s still too much noise.

Kite skipped dinner, chose to lock himself in here instead of indulging in such things. He’d lost his appetite the minute Gon was out of his sight. When he stormed away Kite didn't follow; he simply watched with sorry, regretful eyes that wanted to take the words he uttered from the air and stuff them back down his throat so he could choke on them his damn self.

Kite had never been good at hurting people. He was good at delivering the finishing blows; making someone feel the effect of harsh, unforgiving declarations. No, the part that he was truly bad at, was believing in what he said. Understanding it completely, and sticking with it. Even if it was for his, or someone else’s own good. 

The words that left his mouth were almost always with meaning. Each and every sentence, question, statement, whatever it may be, Kite never tried to speak without purpose. He didn’t ramble for hours. He was quick, concise, and most importantly, honest. The ability to say what needed to be heard was never,  _ ever _ , an issue. Which made the fact that he couldn’t really believe in the right things all the worse.

From when Gon was a child to now, he found himself continuously saying things that he didn’t necessarily, completely align with deep down. Worst of all now.

It wasn’t all regrets, no, but Kite was only mortal; a weak man with a brittle core. There’s plenty of mistakes he’s made in life, and most of them come from his tendency to say what he thinks people need to hear. Gon and Killua, for god’s sake. There was plenty he taught them during training that could have been shown differently or taught at another time in their lives. Swept up in their power, their rich capabilities at such a fragile age, Kite couldn’t resist teaching them. He  _ had to _ , lest he never gets the opportunity again. But that didn’t mean there weren’t things he did wrong. Things he could have done even better than he did all those years ago.

But where does it all end? What authority does he have to let the lines bleed in his favor and listen to his twisted imagination? Just because it’s in his favor? How fucked  _ is he? _

What he said to Gon, that had meaning. Purpose. And it served its purpose. It was the  _ right thing to do _ from all objective perspectives but his own.

And this should be the moment he fights that battle of his wobbly morals. He’s set the stage, after all. There’s a chance that Gon really,  _ really _ won’t come back after this.

“So why do I want to turn it all around again?” He groans, dragging tense and tired hands down his face, still lightly dotted with sweat that accumulated on the walk home. Everything about these feelings tore Kite apart, peeled his skin back until blood was festering underneath, and exposing him to the light and truth of who he really was. 

Split between two separate versions of exhaustion, he saunters to the bathroom and turns the handle fastened onto the elongated pipe leading to the rickety showerhead, and for a moment, considers taking a bath. He won’t be clean, no, but maybe he can rid himself of this headache before he goes to sleep.

He chuckles to himself as he changes objectives and fiddles with the pipe, wonders how many headaches he’s had since Gon has arrived. Ging gave him less, considerably. 

The tub fills with hot water, huge surges flooding from the wide spout, and Kite wonders what in the world his former lover could be up to right now. Ging never outlined his plans to Kite back when they worked together. Just simply took him along for the ride. It was only fair Kite went along, with no questions asked. Everything he knew, from pure survival skills to each little thing he taught Gon and Killua during their training, was because of Ging. After everything he’d been through, no matter the hurt he currently endured, he was indebted to him.

He tapered the water’s flow as the tub filled near its rim, nearly spilling when Kite dips a cold foot in, letting the rest of his filthy body seep into the sauna of a bath. The hot moisture stuck to him and sucked every iota of stress and strain from his muscles, let them flow into the bathwater. The relief caused him to sigh, almost moan as his body inched further down. 

For a mere moment, there was peace. Steam filtered into his brain, his eyes fluttered shut, the hard work of the day melting away and off of him next. He found comfort in the freedom of nakedness and the silence that finally decided to make its entrance. 

His heartbeat aligned with the ticking clock on the wall, and Kite kept his eyes closed as the room closed in on him, four walls not ready to pulverize him, but instead to dome around his still body, protect him from all outside forces while preserving a thin, scrappy slice of tranquil ambiance he didn’t deserve, but certainly needed.

Kite never made it to the shower, instead let the water drain out of the tub hours later as he reached for a towel. He didn’t dry off at first, watched as rivulets of water flowed past his toes, forming their paths around their obstacles, finding their way to their destination. Where they needed to be. Kite wondered if he would ever get there. Maybe he’d jump off the canyon before then.

The bathroom door opened and shut quickly, basking it’s light before it’s forced back into hiding. Kite throws his dirty clothes on the chair beside his bedside table. He’s tired now, though it hurts a lot less than it did when he came in.

Though he was thinking about him the entire time he soaked and steamed out his worries, it felt like he just remembered the fight with Gon happened as he undid his cloth robe, letting it fall to the floor before he slipped under the sheets. But unlike before, it didn’t jerk and jostle him about. His head didn’t ache at the thought of it. 

On any normal day, he would have picked up his robe and folded it before getting into bed, but today wasn’t a normal day on any scale. There was no hunger to indulge, no anger at himself for his feelings. There was only a numb, dull throb that resonated through his body as he laid down and tucked himself in, the moon his only companion. 

In the worst way possible, Kite fell asleep with a completely empty head. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t see Gon for four days. 

For a huge chunk of that time, Kite threw himself into the ruins and the work that was left behind for him to complete. Data retrieval, artifact collection, tasks that would be much easier to complete with the second pair of hands he’d become so used to overtime. Evidently, he’d taken Gon for granted. But the solitude acted as a double-edged sword. More work, but more time to think or ignore, depending on how he felt that day.

He half expected Gon to make his reappearance before the four days had concluded, stubbornness at the forefront per usual. But after the second night, Kite began to consider the fact that he may have successfully chased Gon back home. It’s what triggered the storm of contrasting emotions that overcame him on the third night, treating himself to a somewhat celebratory bottle while simultaneously nursing the dregs of regret that would resurface every now and then. 

If he was on his way home, was he safe? Kite would have no assurance of that; Gon wouldn’t answer his calls, certainly. And what if he were to go home and spin his pursuits in a different light to his friends and family? Make Kite the villain of their unfinished story?

The thought only lasted for a brief moment, for Kite shook his head incredulously at the gall of his conclusions. It wouldn’t make sense for that to happen. Gon wasn’t like that, wouldn’t screw Kite over  _ that  _ hard for rejecting his advances.

Right?   
  


The third night ended up being the worst. He barely slept, wide awake and swimming in questions that were greeted with inevitable silence. It was the birds rising from their slumber in the early morning, chirping beside his window, that eventually rocked him to sleep.

Night four, there were footsteps behind him that made his skin burst with goosebumps, a cautious hand curling about the handle of his ax until he got a whiff of the smell that filters in.

_ Why now? _ In the middle of the night watch, minutes before he’s supposed to be leaving? It’s all he has time to ask before Gon speaks.

“Hello, Kite.”

Kite keeps calm. He’s thought through this very scenario so many times, and though he’s on edge, he’s ready. He’s fine.

“You’re back.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

Kite had prayed desperately, despite his hopes that he wouldn’t. But Gon doesn’t need to know what. He ignores the question, opts to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m tired of being mad at you.”

“Oh are you?”

“Yeah. I’m tired of being mad and fighting. Besides, there’s no reason to anymore.”

_ No reason?  _ Kite laughs. “And why is that?”

“Because I know.”

“Know  _ what _ ?”

“Enough.” Gon leaves it at that, tone succinct as he inches closer to Kite, one careful step at a time. As if Kite will snap and unleash his full fury any moment. It’s a fear and caution Kite wishes he’d worked harder to assert weeks ago.

“Gon, what do you want from me?”

“You. Just you.”

“No.” Kite says, “what do you want from me  _ after _ .”

“After?”

“After this, request. What’s your plan for afterward?”

It’s something that Kite has been meaning to ask for a while now, curious of Gon’s intentions if he were to get what he wanted. Normally he would trust Gon’s sense of realism but it’s been proven to him over and over that Gon may be living in a fantasy world.

“Haven’t thought about it,” Gon says.

“You should.”

What should have been a petty comeback, or a full-on tantrum, is replaced with a dry, sensual touch of Gon’s fingertips against his skin. Kite draws in a tight gust of air, wondering just when he had the chance to get so close. 

“Do I have to?”

“Even you have to know that we couldn’t last if I did let it happen.”

“But…couldn’t it?”

His hands traverse further down to his chest and into his shirt at the silence that follows, conjoining them in the center before running them back up and out. His touch leaves streaks of wild embers in its wake, each flicker of a sensation missed as soon as it’s gone. It’s a taste of what Kite’s imagined for so long, and it causes his heart to rattle its chains, angry,  _ hungry _ .

“You don’t understand…” His head turns to the side opposing Gon’s hands, as if the movement will launch him off, “if we do this nothing will be the same.”

“Kite, I want this.”

“I’ve told you over and over, you don’t know what you want.”

“Why?” Gon challenges as he stops atop Kite’s shoulders, “Because I’m young? Because I’m thinking with my dick?”

“Am I wrong.”

“I--” Gon catches himself, “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Kite gulps.

“But even if it is--”

He nuzzles his nose to his hair. Kite doesn’t stir.

“--I’ll be back.”

The pads of his fingers dig into Kite’s heated skin and despite it, he manages a light laugh.

“Even after I told you to leave?”

Gon stops abruptly, replacing harsh pressure with a smooth, gentle brush of his nose as it travels up to Kite’s ear.

“I’ll never leave you. Even if you tell me to.”

Kite’s face molds into something he hopes can’t be seen or understood: longing, seemingly resolved by the band-aid that Gon slapped over it. He knew exactly what to say, knew how to read Kite like a goddamned book. It’s no wonder he’s gotten this far already, slithered this deep between tight cracks. They’re the words Kite has never heard before, and from a child no less. It’s not what he’s looking for, but he’s more than okay with accepting the sentiment now. 

Why was consistency always the bare minimum for Kite? The all-out breaking point? 

Gon maps the curvature of his clavicle one last, memorable time, and Kite lets him finish before shrugging him off.

“Are you here to work?”

“Do you want me here to work?”

Kite sighs. “You can go now.”

“I’ll be back, you know.”

“I know.”

It's the only thing that Kite is ever certain of anymore; the promise of never attaining the freedom he so desired, no matter how far he reached. No, there was a different kind of release awaiting him. The product of the inevitable fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange) if you'd like! and thank you for reading :) next chapter is....eheheheh, the fall of atlas...


	6. he broke your throne and he cut your hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note -- after this chapter, there will be a _hiatus_. neeeda catch up on some things and go through and fix what i have of this fic! this just about marks an estimated halfway point! only right we take a little break! gonna stop trying to pump out content like a machine and take my time!
> 
> but anyway, enjoy!

Day five came and went. Nothing. No Gon.

It’s almost painful, the way the sun hides behind dark cumulus clouds the same day Gon disappears. Kite still can’t shake the fact that he should be rejoicing like he was not too long ago, and instead, he laments.

There was a significant change in Gon’s approach that Kite didn’t notice until sleeping on it. That uncomfortable feeling that made a home in his throat and practically sucked the air out of the room when they spoke? That was Gon’s newfound confidence. He was less bratty, more assertive. He wasn’t scrambling to try and push Kite into the direction he wanted anymore. No, he was acting like Kite was already there. Sat above the trap that would give way and swallow him whole.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it wasn’t in Kite’s favor.

To his surprise, he slept uninterrupted, and when he woke up on day six he felt like the rest had settled in his skin, let a new version of himself rise from what was. His eyes don’t feel heavy as he looks out into the city, his ears are buzzing with intrigue. Maybe it’s a genuine, good day that awaits him. No stress, no fuss, no muss. 

He’s wrong, naturally.

The chain of events that have usually followed after waking up resumes its role and Kite goes through the motions with willing ease, in love with the fact that he’s started to latch onto this routine rather than relive how he’d felt the day before. There’s some sign of stabilization on the horizon, and he’s ready for it whenever it comes.

As he walks home he considers Gon’s safety again, if he were to be on his way home. What awaits him back on Whale Island. If there was more he was running from than a slew of petty arguments. 

He considers his distress, his desperation, the sudden  _ need  _ to act on these feelings and cross boundaries that Kite had assumed were set from when they met. Gon is an impulsive creature, for sure, but he has more of a tendency to act out based on emotion alone. More than ever he wanted to know more about the source of it, seriously find a way to help him and shake off these feelings, because there’s no way they could come from a place of true affection.

Could they?

Instead of cutting the concept off at the bud, he lets it bloom; a towering, elegant tree of hypothesis and postulation.

When he arrives at the hotel, peeling the bark off of possible answers, he’s interrupted by the loud, endlessly enrapturing (no matter what Kite tries to tell himself these days) sight of Gon himself.

He chokes on his own spit at the sight of him, hands thrown up in defense as if he’s going to pounce on him at any moment. Grasping at strings and desperate for any words at all, he manages a quick, hushed, “Gon.”

Gon crosses his arms. 

“Hi Kite. I’m here.”

_ Fuck. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Tell me to leave.”

Kite swings the door to the hotel room open and Gon follows quickly behind him. Kite wants to scream, throw the chair across the bed, break the window with a quivering fist. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Gon pushes and pushes and pushes because Kite is an open book, each and every page written like a confessional spelling out his every sin, every thought, every vulnerability. 

And Gon follows,  _ defies  _ him. Because he  _ knows  _ Kite will give him anything he wishes if he pushes hard enough. Kite has no power, he never  _ has _ . Not externally, and even internally it’s brought into question, because Gon rushes up behind him, wrapping his slim arms around Kite, low and resting above his pelvis, and Kite?  _ Doesn’t. Move. _

Gon inhales his scent, loud and obvious about it as he tucks himself into Kite’s shirt. “Why do you keep fighting this?  _ I smell it on you.  _ You’re aroused.”

Kite’s breath hitches.  _ Get him off you. Get him off you now _ .

He breaks free, crosses the room to sit on the mattress, massage, his head, get a fucking  _ grip _ , whatever it takes. 

“Gon.” And though he starts, he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence as he turns and meets his eyes. Even under the cover of the indigo night, Gon’s eyes twinkled with such an abundance of emotions, so moving and so genuine, and Kite loses sight of it all. Why he’s even here, rejecting advances and a fate that feels as right as it feels wrong. And for the first time ever, Kite allows himself to wonder what could truly go wrong caved. 

He was no predator. He would never prey on Gon for his own, perverted means. Even now, his rationalization ran on a basis of consent.

_ Children don’t consent, Kite. _

But Gon isn’t a normal child. Didn’t grow up normal, doesn’t think normally, doesn’t have the power of a normal child. He’s barely a child as it is. It’s not as bad as Kite is making it out to be. 

He appears before him at an inhumane speed, stands between Kite’s spread legs. It’s as close as he’s let him get, his current crumbling resolve to blame. An open palm, tenacious and careful as it rests on his chest, is all he’s granted. In a hushed voice, one that Kite probably wouldn’t hear if he wasn’t as close as he was to his lips, Gon says, “I see the way you look at me.”

Kite stares beneath the rim of his hat. Gon takes the liberty of removing it, boldly tossing it to the side and pushing thick grey strands of hair out his face, exposing all his features. They glimmered gently, much like Gon’s eyes, the city luminating the room with hues of red, magenta and blue.

“You look at me the way you look at him.”

His heart stills in his chest. Kite isn’t sure when and how Gon would be able to pick up on such a small detail, but there was a time, once, when the three of them were together. Just once. Gon was so young, he’s surprised that he was able to remember such a small moment and draw an enormous conclusion from it. There was always that small, little detail about him that he could never ignore. 

“You miss him…” A leg slots itself beside Kite’s outer thigh. His alarms blare again, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge them. Gon’s skin burns fierce against him, his ass seated comfortably over the gap of Kite’s thighs. His cock purrs. A sound escapes him before he releases a soft, relevant reminder into the air.

“You’re not him.”

But Gon…Gon looked, sounded, probably  _ felt  _ like Ging did, if Kite once dared to take hold of his soft, luscious flesh. Better yet, Gon was in need of someone, just like he, admittedly, was as well. And it had been so long since Kite was needed,  _ wanted _ by someone. Ging had left him so empty, so lost, wanting,  _ hoping  _ he’d have the chance to do better with no sign of relief in sight. But Gon was here. Gon could fill that yearning in his heart. Just for awhile.

The boy in his lap proceeds to literally tear at him, fumbling with his clothes and Kite wonders what ‘awhile’ could mean for them. For  _ him. _

“Please…” Gon’s shaking fingers unfasten the buttons on his shirt, “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

And it shocks him, rocks him to his very core that Gon is exhibiting such consideration. Gentle? With Kite? He’s the one that’s fragile; so young, so impressionable, misguided. What does it even say about Kite himself that he has a seventeen-year-old assuring his comfort as a grown man?

“Gon…”

Kite wishes he had the words, the will, to promise him the same. Because Gon is the one deserving of gentle touch, of safety and love packaged in any way he can deliver. All the things he can’t give him, wrapped and tied with a bow on top.

“Please don’t stop me,” Gon begs, grip tightening as if Kite would fall through the mattress if he let go, “please, Kite.”

“You know we can’t,” Kite doesn’t know what there is that’s left to say. He was weak,  _ horribly  _ weak, after all. He’d used up all he had to stop it, to stop him. But his body worked overtime where his mind ran dry. It was almost sad, how pitiful this defeat was. How shameful it felt to be the person he was right now, a teen he was undeniably attracted to for no other reasons than loneliness, longing and lust. “You’re  _ not him. _ ”

“I can be just like him,” Gon leans in close, whispers the threat disguised as a promise in his ear, “I can be better than him.”

His words pierce Kite where it hurts the most. Gon knew what game he was playing, the strings he took hold of and tugged at like nobody’s business. There was no level of intimacy that was off limits for him, it was clear. Kite revels in the pain, fights the urge to yank Gon into him, crush their lips together and show him just what happens when you ride on high promises.

“And you don’t have to feel bad if I want this.” The longer he rambles, strings of desperate promises and petty reassurances wrapping around his heart and squeezing tight, the closer Kite gets to the edge. It’s not far now, the inevitable push he’s been waiting for since Gon first arrived. 

“I  _ want this  _ Kite.  _ Please. _ ”

Kite’s breath catches when there should have been words, a response. But he had none. He had nothing. All he had were Gon’s words of affirmation, and he latched onto them dangerously tight. Kite had waited so long to hear words like this, a declaration of hunger, of desire. He never found it, not from anyone, and not ‘till now. It wouldn’t be so bad to help him; to help  _ them _ . Just this once.

“Please…”

_ Right? _

Gon’s lips hurtle towards his in slow motion. Kite--against every voice in his head telling him not to--lets the scene play out, surrenders the control he’s been scrambling to keep together in the wake of debauched, unforgivable desires.

When he’s kissed, it’s anything but wrong. It’s an extension of Gon’s body, Gon’s  _ soul _ , blooming, spreading, and entwining with his own. Kite is flooded by the light, granted the pitiful illusion of his sins being washed clean by a sick twisted means of confessional. Is it Gon himself? Or is it the mere fact that this is his first intimate touch in years since Ging left him alone in this lonely, cold world?

His hands reach to frame Gon’s face, fingertips digging into the supple flesh of his cheeks. He’s soft,  _ so  _ soft. Kite feels as though Gon will harden and crack if he keeps his hands there any longer.

Gon kisses him with zeal that one would expect from a horny teenager. Kite tried to slow him down, keep their movements slow and languid and really drain everything he can out of it, but Gon is insistent, impatient having waited so long for his touch. 

The shirt that Gon had previously been struggling with had fallen to his side, pooling where he sat and allowing the younger to run curious, hungry hands across prominent ribs that lined his stomach. Kite focuses on his hips, rocks them in the direction of his churning stomach before sitting him down at the start of his thighs.

Gon’s mouth parts, bottom lip moist with Kite’s spit from their heavy kiss. Kite gulps, a new layer of fear settling when he realizes what he’s done.

“I…” Kite tries to form the words, doesn’t even know what’s appropriate to say.

Gon’s thumb nudges at Kite’s bottom lip, plucking at the fat of it before he drags his hips across his lap again. Kite watches, in bliss, as Gon’s teeth clash together, hissing at such innocent friction. It does exactly what he wants it to do, Kite’s heart racing a mile a minute as he rocks his hips back up in return. 

His hand wants to reach and palm at Gon’s cock, a wet spot already at the front of his cotton shorts. God, was he even wearing  _ underwear _ ? Had he planned this?

It doesn’t matter anymore; it’s the  _ last  _ thing that matters. Kite tilts his head upwards, expectant of the lips that return to embrace him. He kisses him sweet and soft, slow as though he would shatter like a glass window if he were to press any further. It probably doesn’t matter how they kiss, he considers, while Gon’s fingers curl into his scalp tight enough to pull out long, thick strands of his white hair.

There’s more control now, by a small margin, as their lips melt together, a destined alloy between two entities far too opposing from each other in any other scenario that isn’t the one right here, and right now. 

Gon pants in his mouth, his desperation more evident than ever in the thick heat of the moment. Kite wants nothing more to relieve him; relieve him the way he’s been secretly wanting to since his left-field proposal was put on the table.

“Do you want to try something?” He whispers against his mouth as Gon’s head twitches forward. He falls out of his trance as soon as Kite’s lips are absent. The latter stares back, pupils blown and leaking with what he can hope is his foolish infatuation for the boy in his lap. Gon melts.

“Yes. Anything you say.”

Kite takes hold of his waist, lifting him as he swings his legs from the edge of the mattress and more near the center. He releases Gon to have him bounce on the bed as Kite readjusts himself. His boner is evident, about to break through the seams of his pants as he pushes himself up against headboard.

He beckons him with a wave of his hand and Gon comes like a moth to a flame, positioning himself just beneath Kite’s raging arousal. An impatient huff comes before he asks--though it sounds like a helpless plea when it leaves his lips, “Come closer.”

“Here?” Gon sits atop his cock again. 

Kite lets out a sound, vibrant with pleasure, before giving him an approving nod. Gon seems to light up at this, picking up on it almost immediately before repeating the move.

“Is this what you wanted to try?” He says it before a small moan comes out.

“Yeah. Do you like it?” Kite asks, almost enthusiastic to hear the soft whimper he’s granted as an answer, Gon’s hips quickly falling into a rhythm they can both keep up with. Blush paints Kite’s skin, much like Gon’s since they’d started. His chest hums as he bucks upwards to meet the desperate little jerks of Gon’s hips, the overall grind sending him to another planet. 

“Kite, feels good,  _ mm _ , Kite…s’all I ever wanted…” Hearing his name on Gon’s tongue was much more than pleasant. The control he was missing, it had returned. And in the most, unpredictable of ways. He licks his lips endearingly, hand caught onto his hips. Kite wondered where all that fear from before went, boiling up like magma only to cool over at the very last second before eruption. 

He ground into the boy’s hips, a sweet lurch in his stomach causing him to surge forward. They moved in a frenzy under the cover of a sleeping town, joined by hushed whispers and taut arousal.

Sweat beads at the beginnings of Gon’s hairline and Kite reaches up to wipe it away, a practiced instinct. He holds him there as Gon grinds his cock down, small in comparison to Kite. They groan together as they glance down at their rocking hips.

“Gon,” Kite forces himself to look up, “are you okay?”

“It’s tight,” he whispers, hand covering his groin quickly before he thrusts into its touch. His hunger flickers that same depravedness that sat at the bottom of Kite’s soul. “Take them off Kite, please…”

He could never deny Gon of anything to begin with. It was just as hopeless to try to do so now. He sits up abruptly, one hand wrapped past his stomach and tucked into his side while the other fumbles with Gon’s buckle. 

The soft tips of his hair tickle his nose as he tries to focus on his task, eyes bleary and pulsing with urgency as he works his way into Gon’s pants. The buckle comes undone and Kite shoves it to the side with haste, along with cumbersome flaps of fabric before he’s shown Gon’s length. It’s a sight, smeared with precum that had built up within the confines of his clothes. It looks as small as it feels, but Kite remembers how small he was when he was in adolescence, couldn't bear to pass a judgment of any kind. 

Kite takes a hold of his virgin, weeping cock and takes a single experimental stroke, watching the boy’s pink lips fall open at his touch alone before his hand is covered in his juices. He’d come undone just like that in Kite’s secure grasp, spasming in his lap as a single tear rolls down his red cheek.

“You…” He stares at the remnants of Gon’s premature end, slipping between his fingertips and onto the mattress. His throbbing length, pressed against the rough fabric of his pants, enjoys the sight, the sensation. 

Gon pants beside his ear, his voice whirring out as a whine, “I’m sorry, oh I’m sorry Kaito…”

“Gon…”

“I didn’t mean to cum so fast I’m sorry—“

Kite snatches his chin. Gon’s mouth clamps shut. Reality crashes down on him, a house falling from the sky. He can’t think. The cum drying between his fingers sends a wave of nausea through his body. The initial euphoria of acting on impulse and letting himself go to his inhibitions has completely drained from him, replaced with earth-shattering, staggering fear.

“Don’t speak,” he says. “Just, don’t.”

“But I didn’t mean to…” His voice is muffled in the wake of Kite’s forced grip, “It was supposed to be better than this. I could have lasted longer I swear.”

Kite almost says something he’ll certainly regret in that moment. Almost promises Gon that this won’t be the last time. That this isn’t the end of their wrongdoings. 

“Don’t…just, don’t worry about it.” He sighs, exhausted as if he’d climaxed and wasn’t still hard as a rock. “Just clean up, okay?”

“But you’re still--”

“ _ I said clean up _ .”

Kite releases his chin, fingers curling into a tight fist at his side as Gon clambers out his lap, asscheeks sliding against the meat of his leg. What the hell has he done?

And why does he want to do it again?

“Can I shower?” Gon interrupts the hailstorm in his mind.

“ _ Yeah _ , Gon, do whatever you need to do--”

“Kite?”

Their eyes meet. His are welled with tears, fresh and falling down chubby, bruised cheeks. God, Kite grabbed too tight, didn’t he?

“Are you mad at me?”

Kite’s heart swells past what it can handle at his maturity, his body acting, stealing the wheel yet again, before he can think it through and approaching the boy, overwhelmed.

“I’m not mad,” he says, “I’m…I’m not.”

But is he? Not because he came, but because he wouldn’t  _ give this up _ , pushed them into this horrible, fantastic place? And if he is angry at Gon, does he have any dominion over it? This situation they’re in, the presumed climax of their flowerlet of a relationship, it was both their sin to bear, he’d like to think. Gon knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what he wanted. 

But the facts of it all still remain. Kite knows his role as Gon’s guardian, as a trusted adult in his life. He’s crossed a line; and he’s dreamt day and night of doing it. 

Gon’s fingers wipe at his tears, wiping the moisture collecting by his nails on his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Kite kneels against the carpet, an open palm against Gon’s shoulder bracing him as he shifts downward, “I shouldn’t have let this happen. I’ll—”

“Kite.  _ Don’t _ . You were hard! We touched each other and it felt so  _ good— _ ” He looks at him, eyes welling all over again, “You…don’t want me?”

And  _ no  _ it would be a fucking  _ lie  _ if Kite said that he didn’t want Gon in that moment. Hell, he’s wanted him for  _ much  _ longer than that. But right now, Kite isn’t sure how much he’ll be able to handle yet another slip of his fortitude. 

“Gon this isn’t a matter of emotion alone. It is completely out of line for me to be involved in any sort of intimate relationship with you.”

“No one needs to  _ know _ ,” Gon’s kneecaps scrape the carpet before he throws himself into Kite’s arms. An impulse one would only act on if they knew they were going to be caught. “we can keep it a secret. This town is small, and—and we’re Hunters! They’re not going to be poking their heads into our business.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s  _ wrong _ .”

“But it doesn’t  _ feel  _ wrong! I’m going to be eighteen soon anyway, Kite. Please don’t make me go. I don’t want to. Please, I don’t want to.”

_ Say no _ .

“Gon, you know I can’t—”

“You already did.”

Gon’s hand grazes the crotch of Kite’s pants before he smacks it away. 

“It doesn’t matter what I did. I’m not doing it again.”

“ _ We did it,  _ Kite.” Gon settles in his lap again, the slight grind of his ass against Kite’s cock and the words that follow dizzying him. “Who cares anymore?”

Gon kisses him again, more gentle than earlier, like he’d promised earlier. Kite had promptly forgotten about the shower he’d ordered him to take, the tangle of their lips drugging him into compliance as he feels the button of his pants being unfastened.

The fabric is fought with for a minute or two before they get it down his thighs, though not completely off. “I want to suck your dick.” Gon speaks his wishes into existence as his boxers come next. Hazily, Kite nods. 

He would never be able to process how he got here afterwards, when Gon was asleep and he would be sitting up wide awake until his morning shift.

Gon slinks down the span of Kite’s body, keeping fierce eye contact between them alive. He releases a hot breath of air on his stomach that might as well have burned him upon contact before Gon noses at his dick, still trapped within its confines.

“Please,” Kite begs, “be careful. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ve been waiting to do this.” Gon ignores him, which,  _ yeah _ , Kite should have expected it, but his focus falls on the pert tongue that pokes out to lick at the head of his cock. He sits up abruptly, half to give him better access, and half to give himself a better view.

_ Bastard. You’re a depraved bastard. _

Gon wraps his hot mouth around him, suctioning and sucking sweetly at the tip. With curious eyes, Kite bites down hard on his lower lip, hesitant of letting out a sound. It’s much different from earlier, the situation they’ve managed to stumble into. In the space of a mere hour he’s landed face first into his filthiest of fantasies, Gon’s head bobbing up and down in a swift and sultrous movement between his thighs.

Kite dares to twist a hand in his hair and Gon responds happily, pulling off of him pressing fervent kisses to the base of his cock before his tongue darts out. The sudden heat causes his stomach to hum pleasantly. Gon travels further up until he’s back at the head. Their eyes lock when he wraps the small muscle around him in a single rotation. Kite’s body jerks, and Gon’s tongue swirls about the bulbous head once more. 

“Oh oh—like that,” Kite finally releases a lengthy, deep sigh as his head falls past his shoulders, “just like that Gon…”

The boy is eager to please and it’s nothing like Kite has seen before. Ging was never like this with him, no, but there was still a familiar air to the way Gon would come up off his cock and stare at him with those pliant, golden eyes. Yeah. Those eyes shined just like his.

Spittle leaks down his cock and onto the carpet they’ve managed to find themselves on top of as Gon continues to work him like he’s done it thousands of times before. And for a moment, Kite wonders just where Gon’s mouth has been. 

Kite bucks up, unexpectedly, at that though and Gon gasps while still managing to handle the sudden length bouncing against the back of his throat. He means to apologize, but Gon doesn’t stop, takes the challenge and fights through like the good little student he’s always been.

And a student he was. Is. Is he? He was, but he technically still is, isn’t he? What is this teaching him, anyway? Keep applying pressure and you can give your adult teacher a blowjob? Kite knew he wasn’t going to stop, and he used it as an excuse to let it all happen. He’s shaken, jolted out of his more blissful pleasure at the truth that lies between his thighs, that sucks and swallows his cock.

He’s crossed the line.

“Gon,” He takes his head in his hands, palm cupping his hollowed cheek, “slow-- _ angh _ \--slow down. I don’t want you to swallow anything.” 

Gon released him with a wet pop, cheeks reddened, eyes blown, watery and wide from blowing a cock much too large for his little mouth. “I can swallow. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not about whether you can or not, I--” 

But Gon takes him in his mouth again, tongue swirling all the way down to the head, until he buries his nose in the pale white bush that rests at his pelvis. Kite can’t contain himself any longer, stomach dropping as the first load of his cum shoots out. He’s almost certain it hits the back of Gon’s throat. 

Kite’s lower half convulses as he finishes pumping his seed into his mouth. Regret ripples through him as he watches, awestruck, but not surprised in the slightest as Gon laps it all up.

It’s not a good orgasm. Not at all.

His  _ body  _ loves it, no doubt, but his mind lacks the same enthusiasm and vigor, completely disgusted with himself. Disgusted at his weakness, disgusted at how he’s managed to break twice in one night, disgusted at the way Gon noses at his flaccid cock and he  _ likes  _ it. Likes the way he looks with his knees dug into the carpet, lips coated with hints of his cum and tears streaked by the corners of his bright eyes.

It’s why he doesn’t stop Gon when he leans up to connect their lips once more, lets his eyes flutter and tries not to focus on the disgust, but the feeling of Gon’s lower lip caught between his before they part.

“I told you not to swallow.” What the fuck else is he supposed to say?

“And I told you I could do it,” Gon breathes against him, licking much too playfully at his teeth.

“You can go shower now.” Kite responds curtly after a pause, but only after tracing over the phantom touches of Gon’s lip with a hesitant tongue.

“Okay.” Gon, for the first time in a long time, it feels, does what he’s told without a single protest. Gathers his clothes; underwear, shirt, lounge pants, and leaves. The bathroom door shuts tightly and locks behind him and Kite takes this as an opportunity to finally collapse and let it all rush over him; violent crashing waves of absolute dread.

His cock throbs through it all, numb in the aftermath but still buzzing with long desired satisfaction. He did it, didn’t he? An absolutely horrible person, he is, but he did it. 

_ They did it. _

Kite throws his hands over his face.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The shower runs loudly, rings in his ears like a shrill alarm as Kite tries desperately to convince himself as to why he should pick up Gon’s telephone and contact Killua right away. Convincing that should be unnecessary, if he’s honest. He should just call him, simple as that. There’s no  _ thought process _ that should be playing itself out right now.

_ You’ve already done enough. You’ve had your fun. Call Killua. _

Kite stares at the device.

_ End this. Now. _

And he reaches out, he does, but only momentarily. He’s grateful to be able to say his moral compass hasn’t completely disintegrated in the wake of this mission, but it held no influence on him as he weighed his only two options.

Kite falls onto the bed, turns away from the phone and let’s the drum of the showerhead lure him into a drowsy haze.

To pop the bubble he and Gon housed themselves in was a feat he would never be able to accomplish. Not now, at least.

He isn’t sure of when the shower stopped, or when Gon crawled into bed. But he felt the dip of the mattress, felt his wandering hands caress his stressed muscles. 

“Kite?”

“Yes, Gon?”

“Can I sleep in the bed with you this time?”

Kite’s eyes flutter shut. His guilt is unbearable. “Yeah. Come under the covers.”

And as Gon falls asleep, nose brushed upon the base of his neck, bottom lip barely an inch from his skin, Kite isn’t sure whether he’s the good guy or the bad guy of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange) if you'd like! thank you for reading :)


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